


Reigning Shadows

by Paradoxicalblueberry, WantSomeSaladWithYourCroutons



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Fluff, Gen, How Do I Tag, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Irondad, Knives, Major Character Injury, Original Character(s), Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot Twists, References to Depression, Robbery, Swearing, Swords, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Unconsciousness, Violence, assorted sharp weapons, characters having no medical experience whatsoever, depressive episodes, extreme sass and sarcasm, theft of government property
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2020-06-03 01:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 45,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19453945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paradoxicalblueberry/pseuds/Paradoxicalblueberry, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WantSomeSaladWithYourCroutons/pseuds/WantSomeSaladWithYourCroutons
Summary: Nyctophobia: noun- an extreme fear of the dark, or of what could be lurking there . . . watching"She didn't scare Peter, but his innate nyctophobia and common sense told him he should. She was more afraid of herself than anything . . . well, maybe one other thing frightened her more."OrA snarky thief with issues meets a do-gooder hero and doesn't know how much her life has been prophesied.





	1. Two Guys, A Thief, and an Angle Grinder

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, y'all better be in it for the long haul because this is gonna be a LONG fic. This first chapter takes place during the highway robbery in Spider-Man: Homecoming with the government trucks and vulture's heist but the rest of the fic take place in the 3 years between that and infinity war. 
> 
> ALSO, I have not seen Far From Home yet so PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT SPOIL IT

When I was young, almost too young to remember, I would never let my fears stop me. Of course, I had them, I, after all, was a child. But it was my family that protected me. Told me that the dark wasn’t out to get me. Told me that there weren’t monsters under the bed. Told me that I was brave enough to make it through the world of nightmares.

It was hard. The world grew cold in their wake. The dark got darker. The monsters slinked out from the corners of the room, out from under the shelves and wardrobes. They refused to hide anymore.

I was scared.

But I learned. 

I became one of the things that lurked in the dark. Something just out of sight, but not out of mind. 

Evolution has told us to be wary of the night. That you can never really be sure of what’s out there, but then again, you also don’t want to know what lives past the light. You might not like what you find hiding behind your back or just in front of your eyelids.

Maybe I’m a monster. 

Maybe I’m just trying to survive amongst them.

* * *

I waited. 

Only my silver eyes pierced through the shroud of shadows, watching with patience as the few cars passed without notice. 

“Two minutes, Raine,” my AI advised through my earpiece, cutting the silence. The feminine voice was calm, steady. Unlike the voice that ran anxiously through my mind. I nodded to myself, a small reassurance, and a wave of shadow spread across my face to act as a mask, leaving only my eyes visible. 

“Pix?” I stepped closer to the road, crouching low to the ground. It was completely empty, being about three in the morning on the almost abandoned back road.

“Yes?” 

“Any others?”

“There are no more cars on their way through here except for the truck. We’re good.”

“Sure?”

“Satellite says.”

Street lamps lit the street with faded yellow light that reflected off my hands and the metal rod I tossed onto the asphalt. Upon contact, it rolled out into a spike strip ready to obliterate any tires to drive over it. 

A pair of golden lights peeked over a small hill to the left. 

It was time. 

I turned back to the woods as the streetlight directly overhead dimmed to black with my shadows. The rumble of the truck engine became audible and gradually got louder as the headlights dipped down the hill.

“Pix, you ready?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” 

The dark gently overtook the full moon in the east and the blanket of stars that lit the night winked out one by one, as if a lazy cloud decided to travel through. The headlights of the truck flickered with indecision before going out as well. My irises were the only source of light. The murk of night never impeded on my vision.

As the truck closed in, movement atop it caught my attention and made my heart nearly stop and my grasp on the dark faltered.

A glint of polished metal moved erratically through the air and a barely discernible red and blue-clad form jumped around the roof of the shipping container attached to the vehicle. And thus, I became a competitor.

I lunged for the button that lowered the spikes before the tires would be ripped to shreds and watched in horror as my only chance drove past me with a gust of wind and a whiff of exhaust. 

No. I wasn’t giving up this easily. 

I ran to my motorcycle and put on my helmet and left a trail of dust as I took off. The foam of the helmet muffled the thunder of the engine as I worked to get closer to the truck. Through the dark tinted glass, I saw as each of the street lights went out as I passed them by. 

I paid diligent attention to the ceaseless battle, and so far, thankfully, I wasn’t caught up in it. Yet. 

“Pix, what’cha got on the lock?”

“It seems to be a simple seven digit pin, but the wrong combination will most surely send an alert to the guards,” she answered. The HUD zoomed in on the keypad and detected the residue of five fingerprints on the numbers. Great. 

“Is there a way I can connect you to it? Can you hack it?”

“With this model, I don’t believe so. I would recommend the next course of action be mild explosives.”

“You _do_ know that we don’t have any mild explosives, right!” I shouted. The big wheels of the truck flung up rocks and sand from the old road.

“Shit!” I yelled as I swerved out of the way of a metal crat came tumbling from atop the unit.

“I am aware,” Pix replied calmly.

“You’re useless, you know that! God, remind me to fix your program when we get home,” I seethed. “For fuck's sake, is there any way to open that door or was this entire trip for nothing?!”

“Did you not have a plan?”

“Yes! I did! The plan was to stop the truck and make one of the guards give me the code. But as you can see, THAT’S GONE OUT THE WINDOW!”

She paused. 

“You _did_ bring the angle grinder.”

“I _will not_ try to open that door with an open blade while riding a _motorcycle_ at FIFTY MILES AN HOUR, PIX! Are you INSANE?!”

If I wasn’t noticed by the battling pair above before, I certainly was now, as the bike lurched out of the way of some goo shot by the small figure.

“I am detecting an opening at the top of the container,” She offered.

“How?!”

“Maybe they have an angle grinder,” she answered sarcastically.

“I don’t need your shit attitude right now! Can you please work with me here?!”

“I am what you made me.”

“Fuck it. New plan, Pix!”

I steered the motorcycle over to the side of the truck, staying out of sight of the side mirrors, and in one mostly graceful leap, I grabbed onto the ladder. The cold bit into my fingertips as I scrambled up the metal bars. 

“I’ll keep the bike safe.”

“I don’t want a scratch, you hear me. Not one dent.” 

My eyes were met with a faint purple glow as I peeked over the edge of the unit. The brisk wind whipped around my jacket and cut through to my bones, bringing a chill up my spine.

“What is that?”

“Matter phase shifter,” Pix answered.

The small guy looked like he was busy fending off Metal Wings. I watched for an opening, a small lull in the fight, where I could slip past the two, but it was too late. Another glob of _something_ flew toward me.

I ducked and rolled. 

I may have rolled a little too far.

My chest slammed into the other side of the unit with a bang as I grasped on to the rim with one hand. My lungs burned from all of the air getting knocked out of me.

With a stifled grunt, I brought my other arm up and heaved myself back on top of the rippled metal. The adrenaline had me in ragged breaths and I stood up with the stare of death directed at the small one.

“That wasn’t very nice,” I sneered, reaching for one of the knives on my belt.

“Raine, stop,” Pix warned. “Just get in and get the tech.” Her voice was so soothing and steady. I looked down at the blade in my hand, at how my fingers quivered.

“Fine,” I sighed. The little dude ran towards me, ready with a punch. I jumped to the other side of the purple hole in the container. Metal wings took a swipe at me as I slid into the unit. 

It was much warmer. The lack of wind was jarring. There were stacks crates of tech all around me.

“Recognize anything useful?”

“To your left. Energy orbs at eye level.”

“Anything else?” I asked while unzipping my bag and tossing the orbs in.

“Vibranium. Upper right-hand side.”

“Nice!”

“Chitauri motherboard⸺”

There was a thud from above. I jumped back. The small one took a hit and toppled into the truck with me. Suddenly, the purple glow was gone.

And so was my exit. 

The figure layed limp on the floor. I took a tentative step toward him. 

“Hey.” No response.

My voice echoed off the metal despite the rumble of the truck as I tapped his shoulder with my boot. 

“Hello?” I nudged him again. “Pix please tell me he’s just knocked out,” I pleaded.

“He is still _alive_ if that is what you’re asking. Just slightly concussed.”

“Shit. I mean, good. I’m glad he’s not dead but . . . ” I sighed. “You know what, I don’t need to explain myself to you. You’re just a piece of shit.”

“Yes, but I’m _your_ piece of shit,” she said sarcastically. 

Why is it _me_ that gets stuck in the shipping container of a government truck with an unconscious vigilante? His red and blue suit caught glimpses of the light emanating from my helmet. I knelt down and rolled him over onto his side to make sure he didn’t suffocate or anything when a thought occurred to me. 

The spandex was soft in my fingers as I gently pulled the mask off his face. 

“Are you sure this is wise?”

“You said he has a concussion, right. Well, people with concussions throw up and whatever, so I don’t want him to choke on his own vomit,” I answered defensively, my lousy excuse flat and unconvincing. 

He was younger than I thought he’d be. _Way_ younger. I was expecting a guy at least in his mid-twenties, definitely not a fourteen-year-old. Hell, he was only a couple years younger than me. 

Soon losing interest in this stranger’s face, I jimmied his mask back on, which was ten times harder than taking it off, and turned my attention to the door. 

Angle grinder time.

“Nope,” Pix cut me off before I could say anything. “It won’t work.”

“What do you mean, ‘it won’t work’?” I yelled exasperatedly. “How on _earth_ will it not work, Pix? It’s a fucking death saw that spins at ten-thousand rpm.”

“The sparks, Raine. There are very flammable substances in here and unless you want to blow us up, I would strongly advise you not to use the ‘spinning death saw’.”

“I think I’ll take my chances.”

“Really?” she asked softly. “What about him?”

I turned and glanced at the boy.

“ _Fine,”_ I mumbled, putting the power tool back in my bag.

With a roll of my eyes and a couple more curses, I slung my bag to the ground when a realization hit me.

“Send the bike back to that one diner off the interstate, okay.”

“The one where you said you would murder someone for a piece of pie as we passed it?”

“Yes, Pix,” I replied in monotone. “I’m getting sick of your snide comments, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you fix me? You said you would exactly seventy-three times and yet you⸺”

“Mute” I interrupted and without protest, she quieted and the HUD faded, leaving me alone with the rumble of the engine, an unconscious boy, and my thoughts. The weathered helmet made a slight clatter as I laid it on the floor delicately and took up my bag.

“Somebody’s gonna be really confused when they see a riderless motorcycle,” I whispered to myself with a chuckle as I went around to each crate and searched for anything of value. Soon, the pack had grown heavy with alien doo-dads. 

_What now?_ was my next thought. Sleep felt welcome and there wasn’t really much else I could do except wait.

I zipped up my jacket, whose warmth was minimal and unsatisfying, and I sat down in a small alcove of the crates with my back against the grooves of the dark metal and relaxed as best as possible. Sleep took me before I knew it and I became just another shadow.


	2. Meet Your New Best Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thought he was alone. She knew exactly how to use fear to her advantage. When they finally meet for the first time, they clash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang, this might be my favorite chapter I've written but oof, sorry it's short (most of my chapters will be somewhere over 1000 words unless I got carried away)

A loud bang and a crash brought me to my feet, sword drawn and blade extended, ready to slice an assailant to a pulp. Instinct shadowed my face without a thought. My hand covered my eyes as they adjusted to the blinding light of the open door to the crate, hanging by only one hinge.

“Holy shit!” a high pitched voice yelled, making me jump slightly. “Where did you come from . . . and why do you have a sword?!”

Before my lips could part to answer, I was suddenly swept off my feet and hanging upside-down from a rope wound around my ankles attached to the low roof of the unit. The sword slipped from my hands and clattered to the floor, the metallic noise echoing loudly. My arms hung over my head, and my face began to get hot as all the blood rushed downwards. 

“So,” My irritation leaked into my tone. _“You’re awake.”_

“Were you in here the whole time?” the boy asked as he walked cautiously toward me like I was a ticking bomb. I tried to blow a lock of my dark hair out of my face but to no avail. I huffed in exasperation. 

“If you were stuck in there, why didn’t you . . .” his voice weakened and trailed off.

“Why didn’t I kill you? Because, _surprisingly,_ I don’t want to be a murderer. Now let me down!”

“But you _are_ a criminal. We fought. You were trying to steal the tech,” he said as he knelt down to pick up my helmet. 

“Hey, that doesn’t belong to you, Spandex!” I yelled as I went to grab one of my daggers from my belt, but he saw before I could get a good grip and shot another rope, effectively adhering my hand to my pant leg. 

“Would you just sit still for a moment?”

“What is this stuff?” I asked in disgusted curiosity.

“Webbing,” he answered quickly. “Who are you?”

“The hell would I tell you that?! And you’re a thief just like me so why do you care?”

“I am _not_ a thief. I _stop_ thieves like you.”

“Obviously not that well, Tights.” 

“I am not wearing tights!” he shouted at me. I smiled. “Do you work for Vulture?” He asked after taking a breath.

“Who?”

“Vulture. The guy with the scary-ass metal wings.”

“No.”

“How can I tell if you’re telling the truth?”

“Why would I lie?”

“Because you’re a criminal.”

“I am _not_ a criminal,” I hissed in indignation.

“Right, and all those knives are just for display. If you’re not a criminal, then you wouldn’t have any problem with me looking in your bag, would you?” He grabbed the pack, unzipped it, and ruffled through it. “Aha! Criminal!” he said showing off the contents of the bag like a trophy. 

“Fine, I’m a thief. Are we done here?”

“No, I’m gonna turn you in and you’re gonna go to jail.”

“Oh honey,” I mocked, “life just isn’t as simple as that. I’m not going to jail.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“ _Yes_ , you are.”

“Nope.” 

“Why not?”

“Because,” I reached out with my free arm and grabbed a handful of his suit and pulled him up close, so close that I felt his startled breath through his mask and on my cheek. His eyes widened with the action and a small yelp leapt from his lungs. “Because I know who you are, friend. And I’ve got it all on video. So,” I paused and let go of his collar and patted it lightly to smooth out the wrinkles I’d made. “You might just want to rethink turning me in to the cops.”

With the advantage of his shocked hesitation, I faded with a sly grin into the shadows that advanced at my command from the corners of the shipping container. The light from outside dimmed to a twilight and he spun around with fright as everything went dark.

“What’re you doing? Stop it,” he exclaimed, fear tweaking his voice higher. A chuckle left my lips as I grabbed the knife clipped to the back of my belt and cut myself free. The metal slammed into my back as I fell, knocking the air from my lungs, but it didn’t stop me from swiftly severing the _webbing_ that bound my legs and hand. 

“What’s your name, kid?” I asked watching him flail in the dark, dodging a string of web aimed toward my words, as I snatched my bag and helmet from the ground and jogged out of the container, scooping up my sword on the way and retracting it to clip back onto my belt. “Hope you’re not scared of the dark,” I teased, wanting to lead him out into the open. 

“Call me Spider-man,” he yelled back as he ran out of the container and looked right at me. “And you?”

I slid under a punch. 

“What kinda tech you got there? Some night vision? Heat sensors?”

“You didn’t—” he grunted as I punched him in the gut, “—answer the question.”

“Kid, I’m a thief. Thieves don’t get stupid code names.” I jumped over and rolled out of the way of a crate he flung at me.

“Super strength, huh. What’d you do? Experiment gone wrong? You seem like a science nerd. Play with some chemicals you weren’t supposed to?”

“No,” he said defensively. “I mean yeah but it’s not what you⸺” I swung my leg under him and his knees gave out. Just before he could get back up, I stepped over him and pinned him with my boot just below his neck. His hands flew up and clawed at my leg as I leaned over him, letting my irises flicker silver as I slowly returned the light back to the room. 

“What . . . are you?” he gasped.

“Darling,” I let my foot off his throat but still held him down at the rib cage as I knelt down onto my knee. He recoiled as my finger traced up to his chin lightly. “I’m a nightmare.”


	3. Don't Name the Fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more you know about a person, the harder it is to turn your back when they're in trouble. Even when you thought they were your enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooo I'm just gonna tell you that in this story, when the avengers tower was sold, it was bought back by stark industries. Otherwise, happy reading.

I didn’t see him for a while after that. After I won the fight, I knocked him out and locked him in one of the storage units before blowing a hole in the cement wall with some explosives I found, only to have Pix show me some footage of him climbing the Washington monument a few hours later on my ride back home. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little relieved that I didn’t accidentally sentence the kid to die in that wretched warehouse. 

The ride back out of DC was just as tedious as getting in and it was welcoming to get into the countryside of soft rolling hills, passing by small fields and pastures of grazing cows. The road wound into the increasingly dense forests where the sunlight filtered through the canopy and danced in patches on the asphalt with the wind ticking the tree branches. 

“So . . . are there any other sightings of this arachna-boy?” I asked Pix. Her reply came as a series of small video clips of a red blur swinging through Queens in the corner of my HUD. 

“It appears that he shoots a carbon-based polymer adhesive and uses its high tensile strength to swing through the air.”

“Have you matched the facial scan to a name yet?”

“I believe so.” Several images of the boy dressed in normal clothes replaced the looped videos. He was just an average person. He rode the subway, he got sandwiches at a deli, walked with his friends. It was almost surreal to see both sides of his life. “Peter Benjamin Parker,” Pix stated plainly. “Age 15, lives with his last living relative, May Parker, his aunt, after a plane crash killed both his parents. He attends Midtown School of Science and Technology.”

“Anything else? What about his uncle?”

“Deceased. Shot by a mugger a little over a year ago.”

“Security video?” Pix brought up a dark and blurry security cam photo from a traffic light. It was far too muddled to comprehend, though. “See if you can clean that up a bit, okay?” 

The air was pleasantly warm for early autumn even as the wind whipped past me on the winding road. The leaves weren’t even turning colors yet, except for some trees few and far between. 

“Is there anything else I need to know about this Peter Parker?”

“Evidence suggests that he fought alongside Iron Man against Captain America after the bombing of the signing of the Sokovia Accords.”

“ _ Shit,”  _ I whistled in awe. “This kid’s got friends in high places.”

I had to admire his tenacity, especially when I saw him crash the plane into Coney Island about a week later, but that was the last I saw of him. Well, Pix would show me youtube clips and whatever but nothing as big as taking on the Vulture. But hey, less competition for me.

* * *

“Fifty thousand for the gun.” My voice carried through the crisp air that blew in off the ocean as I stared down the stout man in front of me. The wind jangled the ropes and chains of the boats around us, clang against their masts in staggered rhythm while the rough waves crashed against the pier walls.

“You’re killin’ me here, Lorraine,” he grumbled with closed eyes and a pinch of his nose that skewed his glasses slightly. “Twenty thousand.”

“I’m sorry, Mondello, but food ain’t cheap either.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, “you’re a good enough thief, I’m sure you’d get by. ‘Specially with those pretty silver fox eyes of yours.” I stopped my lips from forming a disgusted frown, and instead forced a smile.

“You got me all wrong. I steal tech because this tech is from the big-wig corporate asshats,” I shifted my weight and gestured to Stark Industries in the distance. “Well, them or the government. The day you catch me thieving from little Joe’s fruit mart, is the day you have permission to shoot me dead, ‘cause that ain’t me.”

His eyes broke away from my cold stare and flicked to the long, rectangular gun behind me. It was set in its black foam interiored case that used to be for a guitar. 

Guitar cases are much less conspicuous than gun cases in the big city.

“You’re a good kid, I’ll give you that. But one day, those morals are gonna get in your way.”

“Better that than grow too big to see who I step on.”

“I’ll give you thirty.”

“If the price is just too high, I can walk. In fact, I got another meeting in ‘bout an hour. I bet he’d love a gun this high end and on clearance,” I bluffed.

“Oh, don’t go doin’ that on me,” he sighed with a small smile. “Thirty-five.”

“Don’t waste my time, Luci,” I said sternly. “We didn’t both come here to puff out our chests and look at the pretty boats. We came here for a transaction.”

“Forty.”

“For such a  _ loyal _ customer like you? Deal.” I smeared on the best fake smile I could manage as I shook his hand before turning to close and lock the gun away while he counted out the money in a black briefcase. 

“One high powered electricity blaster⸺”

“For forty thousand dollars.”

We held our breath while I meticulously counted the bills. The silence felt the pull of tension and we both prayed the rubberband wouldn’t snap. We all knew that I could carve him to pieces if I wanted to. It’s happened before and, needless to say, rumor gets about in the underbelly of New York. And oh, how good it felt to be feared.

Once I deemed the bills genuine, I clicked the case shut and held out the tiny brass key to the guitar case.

“You know, Lorraine, if you ever need a more steady job, I’d love to have someone with your skills on my team.”

“Teams never work out, Mondello. Trust me, they always turn on you in the end. I’d rather be on the sidelines when shit goes down if you get me.”

“I understand. I don’t want kids like you getting caught up in fights either, but hey, you can’t blame me for asking. You’d be more than able to defend yourself.”

I shot him a glare.

“It’s been good talkin’ to ya, Mondello,” I scoffed as I pivoted on my heel and walked away.

I didn’t get far enough to be out of earshot of the words, “ _ Goddamn!  _ She scares me,” but my steps didn’t waver and I kept on to my bike with a smirk. Car doors shut and the engine of the black town car faded while I watched it leave, drunk with power.

The only problem with that? It left me powerless to the things that actually mattered. 

For example, when I pulled over to give a homeless woman a hundred dollars, but instead noticed a fight in the alleyway. One that Spider-man had just lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated and yall can find me on tumblr at @paradoxicalblueberry  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> (P.S. If you want to summon my beta reader, scream "croutons" in the comments)


	4. Damn, I Named the Fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete just can't seem to catch a break, can he? And responsibility for a dying person isn't a super great feeling for Raine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blood/injury warning! Sorry it's short(ish). I legit thought about including the next chapter too but I can't be *that* merciful lol.

The dark of the alley didn’t hide the scene. There were three figures. The smallest being held with his arms behind his back by a tall one. The biggest one bloodied his knuckles with every hit he sent to limp body of a boy I’d fought before.

_Don’t get involved._

The bustle of the city never stopped around me, but the noise of it was numb in my ears as I stared in indecision. 

They’ll kill him.

_He’s my enemy._

But I can’t let him die. He’s fourteen. He’s a kid with a family.

A curse left my breath and I jogged against the flow of pedestrians to the alley.

“Let him go,” I shouted, slowly walking towards them. They stopped what they were doing and looked at me with sneers of broken smiles and dropped their hold of the boy, who crumpled to the concrete. “Good dogs," I said simply.

“I don’t think ya know what you’re gettin’ into, girl?” one jeered.

“We’re the ones with the guns, sweetheart.”

“You _sure_ are, _hun,_ ” I mocked patronizingly. “But you’re also the ones who’ve trapped themselves into the corner of a dead end.” I took up the handle of my sword and it extended out with a series of clicks. “Now, you boys sure you want to start something you won’t walk away from?”

They chuckled.

One pointed his gun.

And darkness engulfed the entire street.

I watched them panic as I slinked closer. One let off a silenced shot. I didn’t let its flare show through the black. They turned in circles, losing which way was out and where each other stood. 

A shuffle of footsteps to my left. 

A gunshot. 

A yelp and the sound of one crumbling to his knees. And the clatter of a gun. 

“Now, what did I tell you?” I cooed from behind the one left standing as the tip of my sword gently pointing into his back. He squealed and dropped the pistol. “Take your buddy and leave, or I’ll impale you both like a shish kabob.”

“Okay, okay,” his voice quivered and he raised his hands in surrender. The sunlight faded back into the abandoned street. The one on the ground stood up timidly, clutching a bloody gash in his shoulder. I held up a knife toward him and slowly escorted them far enough before they began to sprint away. 

The sword retracted and I turned my attention to the body behind me. 

“It seems that history repeats itself,” I muttered, kneeling next to the boy but quickly recognized the urgency of the matter.

I’d just knelt down in a pool of blood.

“Pix?” My fingers frantically grasped at his mask and tore it off. His face was swollen and stained with streaks of crimson on top of patches of purple and brown skin. His eyes were closed and his jaw was slack. At least his heart was still beating.

“Pix, what do I do?!”

“There is a laceration on his right side just below his kidney. The blade doesn’t appear to have severed into any essential organs but there is a great risk of exsanguination,” she answered, voice unwavering.

“What?!” I prodded at the boy’s side and found where the blood rushed through the material of his suit.

“ _He will bleed out if he doesn’t get to a hospital._ ”

“But I can’t take him to a hospital!” I argued.

“Statistically, he will die in thirty minutes if you don't bring him to a doctor.”

“His identity is not a secret for me to tell, Pix!” I yelled, looking back and forth from the street behind me to the blood while an idea formed. “We’re taking him home. I can stitch him up and-and then he’ll be fine and then⸺”

“Wait,” she interrupted while I began taking off my leather jacket and threading his arms through the sleeves.

“What now?!”

“There’s a GPS tracker in his suit. If you take him home you will be⸺”

“⸺Leading someone there.” I sighed and continued untying my scarf to press against the boy’s side. “Shit, well . . . where is the tracker?”

“I advise disabling the power unit to the whole suit. The chest emblem.”

Without hesitation, I grabbed a fistful of the cloth and cut through it, casting it to the ground. The black emblem cracked and sparked under the heel of my boot. 

“It’s time to wake up,” I muttered, shaking his shoulders. It didn’t work. “Okay, I don’t have time for this. Wake up!”

With a gasp, his eyes fluttered open at my harsh slap on his cheek. 

“Huh? What?”

“Hold this here,” I ordered, directing his hand to the scarf wadded up against his side. He looked at me, dazed and confused, but complied.

“Now come on.” I took his other hand and hauled him up to his feet. He hissed at the sudden movement and hugged at his side harder with a clenched jaw. “Can you walk?”

“Y-yeah, I think so.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not carrying you. Let’s go.” I guided him to the exit of the alley but he wouldn’t budge

“My mask!” he gasped, looking over his shoulder.

“Leave it!”

“But--”

“No! Now come on. Zip up the jacket.” He obeyed as we walked out into the main street and merged into the traffic of people on the sidewalk. I glanced back at my bike and the congested street.

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to walk,” I grumbled.

“Where are we going?” he whispered.

“Shut up. It’s not too far.” 

I scanned the crowd every couple of seconds, looking for anything suspicious. 

“Who are you?”

His question made me hesitate. He didn’t realize who I was yet. Maybe it was the delirium? Maybe the shock of being stabbed? I didn’t care because It worked in my favor.

“I told you to shut up,” I replied, ignoring the wave of guilt bubbling in my gut. “You good?”

“Yeah . . . for now.”

His limp got worse the further we walked. Soon, he was leaning against me with most of his weight. He groaned with every step, a little more audible each time. But this was New York. Home to the people with no fucks to give to their fellow pedestrians.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated and yall can find me on tumblr at @paradoxicalblueberry  
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Deflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bloodied table, some whiskey, and a narrowly avoided panic attack. What could possibly go wrong???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo sorry for the kinda but not really late update. Had a busy day and when I was doing final revisions, I realized that what I had was shit so . . . had to do just. so many edits. Don't worry, it's better now . . . . . . . . . . . I hope. 
> 
> Big thanks to Croutons for helping out so much with the edits 
> 
> Also, warning: blood

“Okay, over here.” I directed him over to the partially rusted and paint stained metal door. He leaned against it with his eyes closed and his breathing heavy and out of rhythm. 

We were no longer with the masses of people on the street but instead in the warehouse district. More specifically my warehouse.

“Why are you helping me anyway,” Peter huffed. 

My keys jangled as I opened each of the several padlocks on the door. The wind fluttered off the river, carrying distant horns from the boats and cargo ships and whistled against the ridged metal of the looming buildings around us.

Before I could deflect his question, he slumped over and collapsed. I cursed and slid open the door. “Peter?! Peter? Wake up.” 

I shook his shoulders.

No response.

I groaned and slid one arm under the crook of his knees and the other under his arm and lifted him up. 

“Holy mother of f⸺” 

He was much heavier than I expected and I almost toppled over. Slowly, I not-so-gracefully carried him into the warehouse and set him down on the only clear space other than the ground: my kitchen table.

“Pix, where’s the first-aid⸺”

“Next to your bed.”

“Why the hell would I put it there?!” I muttered under my breath as I ran up the spiral stairs to a metal balcony overlooking the entire space. 

It wasn’t a drab, empty place. And it was definitely not the kind of home one would expect to be behind a rusted door with five padlocks and lewd graffiti. 

It had a warm glow of a modest chandelier cast upon a simple but welcoming kitchen and a usually candle lit table. There was a sofa in the corner along with several other comfy chairs, a television, and a large workstation for modifying tech. But most importantly, it had a training alcove, decked out with mats and punching bags and sparring dummies and above all, my collection of swords hung ornately on the walls along with shields and other strange relics. 

I slid down the railing, red and white bag in hand, and ran back to the kitchen.

Pix was quiet for once, leaving my thoughts to run rampant. I rifled through the bag, trying to ignore all the voices telling me that I was going to have a dead body on my table if I didn’t help him soon. 

_Find the scissors. Just focus on one thing at a time._

_Scissors._

“Fuck it!” I gave up and ripped a smaller blade from its sheath and starting to tear away at the fabric of his suit haphazardly, barely missing my thumb a few times. Sweat rolled down my temple despite the uncomfortable cold.

The package of sterile suturing needles crinkled as I stabbed into it, effectively wedging my knife into the varnished birch wood table. I took one of the already threaded curved needles and swiveled my body to snatch a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. The auburn liquid soaked into the wad of gauze I held. Once it started to drip down my hand, I set the bottle on the table. 

I slapped his cheek lightly but he wouldn’t wake up. His pulse was weak. I slipped off my belt and unclipped the knives, not bothering to set them anywhere and tossed them to the cement floor. I folded the leather over on itself a couple times and placed it in his mouth.

I began to dab the gauze tentatively in a wide circle around the wound to clean up the dried blood. I looked back at Peter’s face. He was still out. 

“ . . . You have to irrigate the wound.”

“I know what to do, Pix!”

“Then why aren’t you doing it?”

“B-because I don’t want to hurt him,” I shouted back.

Pix paused for a moment.

“Raine, it’s okay to be scared.” Her voice softened. “But you need to help him, now. Just take a deep breath.”

I grabbed the whiskey and hesitantly poured it on the wound.

Dark red quickly faded into a rose pink and I could see the actual slice in the flesh. Diluted blood ran off the edges of the table.

A muffled scream erupted in the air and all of Peter’s muscles tensed. His hands flailed wildy. His back arched in pain. I winced with guilt. All I could do was whisper “hush”es and “it’s okay”s, mostly to comfort myself at this point.

Slowly, he seemed to calm down.

Peter’s chest heaved up and down in long breaths and his eyes were closed again. I took the belt out of his mouth and pulled up one of the bar stools to start the long process of stitching the wound closed.

Pix kept an eye on his vitals while I cleaned up the mess. I wiped down the table, threw away the bloody gauze, and scrubbed the floor. 

Finally, I flopped down onto the couch and the exhaustion of today finally caved in from all sides like a wave and brought me with it on its way back out to sea.

* * *

“Ummm, hello?” 

The question was no more than a whisper but it brought me out of my light slumber. A hand poked at my shoulder and I sighed in defeat and groggily opened my eyes to see a half naked Peter standing in front of me.

“Excuse me but . . . where am I, who are you, what time is it, and why am I here?”

“Dear _god_ , you’re exhausting,” I grumbled. “If you rip those stitches, you’ll have more than just one stab wound to worry about.” 

I got up from the sofa and walked over to the sink. His timid, slightly limping steps loosely followed behind. The water was cold on my face and I sighed, leaning forward with my forearms on the countertop and letting my head drop between my arms. “Sorry about your suit,” I said after a moment. “It looked expensive. I’m sure Stark’ll give you a new one.”

“W-what? How do you⸺”

“There _is_ such a thing called Google.”

“I-I’m not going to ask you again,” he stuttered, sounding more timid than he probably hoped to.

“Good,” I deadpanned, turning around to look at him. 

“Come on, please? Your scary intercom lady wouldn’t let me leave,” he whined.

“‘Scary intercom lady’? Ya hear that, Pix? He thinks you’re scary,” I laughed. “Pix, say hi to Peter for me.”

“Good evening, Mr. Parker.”

“Pix?” He looked at me questioningly. “Like a Pixie?”

“P-I-X-L,” I spelled. “Pixel, But I just call her Pix. She’s my very own Personality Integrated X-grade Lunatic.”

“Excuse _me_ ,” the AI in question butted in. “I take offense to that name.”

“You can’t take offense, Pix.”

“Well, if I could, I would.”

“What is she? A program?” he asked, obviously intrigued.

“AI, actually,” I explained while walking past him to the door. The internal lock clicked and the metal slid to the side.

It was dark now. The moon was out and with it came the stars, twinkling like far away ballerinas spinning endlessly in the void. 

I grumbled at the thought.

“Wait, really?! Did you build her yourself?! How long did it take?! I have an⸺”

“We’re in the warehouse district,” I snapped, changing the subject. “ _I’m_ the person who regrets saving you. It’s probably around eight-thirty. And I brought you here so you wouldn’t die alone in a dark alleyway! Now shut up a moment!”

“Actually, it’s nine o’ four⸺”

“Not now, Pix!” 

I looked around the corner of the door and relief washed over me. “Thanks for bringing the bike home,” I hollered as I unlocked the storage box behind the seat and pulled out the briefcase. The door closed after me and I tossed the case on the couch.

Peter just watched me in bewilderment, as if I was some newly discovered species.

“Am I being held captive?”

“No.”

“So I can leave?”

“No.”

“Okay, thanks for saving my life and stuff, but I need to go. You don’t understand. You turned off the tracker on my suit. My aunt doesn’t know where I am. _Mr. Stark_ doesn’t know where I am. He’s probably hunting you down as I speak for kidnapping me. Just let me go and I’ll, I’ll lie for you. I won’t tell them where you live. I won’t tell them your name. Wait . . . what _is_ your name?”

“ _Oh please._ I’m not worried about Stark,” I replied, waving away the notion.

“Well, ummm, could I at least have a shirt?” he asked sheepishly. “It’s kinda cold and⸺”

“⸺you don’t want a stranger looking at your nipples. I understand, I understand. Give me a moment.”

“What’s your name?” He asked again while I walked up the stairs.

“This should fit,” I mumbled, ignoring him. I picked up a shirt and smelled it. “. . .ehhh, nevermind.” I tossed it back on the floor.

“So, why did you do it?”

“Do what?” I hollered down from the balcony.

“ _You know,_ save me. Why did you save me? You’re a thief.”

“Ahh, so you _do_ remember me. Nice to hear.”

“Your eyes aren’t that hard to forget.”

“I’m touched,” I teased.

“You’re avoiding the question. Why did⸺”

“⸺I told you, Peter. I don’t want to be a murderer. Is it so hard to believe that a criminal can at least _try_ to be a good person?” I walked down the stairs and sat on the second to last step.

He paused so I went on. 

“I don’t want to think about who I’d be if I’d let you die in that alley with a knife in your chest.” I handed him a sweatshirt and looked him in the eye for as long as I could bear. Those brown eyes that have seen too much loss. Those eyes that I couldn’t help but fall into and lose myself in their ignorance. Those eyes that I’d seen in pain, and brief joy, and intrigue.

“There’s something else, isn’t there. Something you aren’t telling me.”

I looked down at my hands and felt the shadow of my disguise, my tough coping mechanism of an outside shell melt and drip away. But how could I strip this person of the little bit of innocence they had left.

“What? Tell me,” he persisted.

“I . . . I know who killed your uncle, Peter.” And there it went. That little sparkle in his eyes. Gone. I took that away.

He stepped back and looked at me in shock. His chin quivered and he shook his head. 

“H-how?”

“Because he killed my family too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated and yall can find me on tumblr at @paradoxicalblueberry  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> But for real guys, I freaking love your comments and I def do read them. Like, several times. I just honestly don't know how to respond to them. Sorry. I'll try to be better at it in the future. 
> 
> And if any of you have any predictions/suggestions/hopes and whatnot, don't be afraid to share them <3
> 
> \- Love, Blue -


	6. Truth and Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is distressed. Raine is mad. Words are said and regretted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dudes I've been looking forward to this chapter for uhhhhh *checks watch* 6 weeks XD and super excited for your responses. Happy reading!

“Who?”

The word was so quiet. It left his chapped lips as barely a breath. Its weight tugged on my heart in a way I’ve never felt.

“Tell me who killed Ben.”

“I can’t.”

“WHY NOT?!” he screamed. I jumped and took a half step back.

“Peter, what’s to keep you from barging out that door and trying to find him? Calm down, and I’ll explain.” I gestured for him to sit down but he stood fast, feet planted.

“So you’re protecting him!” he huffed, his eyes getting watery. 

“No, I’m not, Peter. I’m protecting  _ you _ . You’re still hurt⸺”

“⸺I heal fast,” he interjected.

“You’ll die before you even  _ try _ to get close to him.”

“I don’t care! What’s his NAME?! I deserve to know!”

“I won’t let you go out there with the intent of revenge. I will not let you murder a man. I know what that does to a conscience and I don’t want that on yours.” My voice cracked, even though I tried to keep it level. 

“What do you know?! You’re just a coward who hides in your stupid shadows!” he spat.

“You’re right!” I yelled, finally snapping. “I hide from my problems because that is the ONLY WAY I CAN  _ COPE, _ Peter! I have killed people before! I have slit throats. I have watched people die in front of me. I have strangled people with my bare hands! I have cleaned too many people’s blood from under my nails and off my face and I am NOT LETTING YOU LEAVE HERE until you settle down!” 

He shook his head, staring holes into the bare floor under his shoes. 

“What’s his name.”

“No.”

“Tell me. His name.”

“God fucking dammit Peter, I SAID NO!” I shouted. Every light bulb in the place shattered, one by one. The light had no place here. 

Tendrils of darkness slithered along the floor and walls, all originating from where I stood. In a flash, all of the surfaces except for Peter’s skin were covered in veins of shadow like cracks in a pane of glass. They snaked around my face and contrasted with the fierce glow of my eyes. 

“I’m not scared of your shadows!” His words brought me back, made me realize what I was doing.

“Peter,” I said wistfully, the dark patterns retracting and letting the moonlight shine peacefully through the skylights. My sharp gleam of silver dulled. “Peter, I’m not asking you to be scared. I’m just asking you to listen to me.”

“Why should I listen to you? You’re a criminal. You’re a murderer. You’re no better than him! You’re. Just. A. Monster.”

Tears sprung from his eyes.

Every word felt like a punch to my gut. It hurt more than it should have. 

You’re.

Just. 

_ Monster _ .

He was right. I was just a monster. I wasn’t some savior. No one  _ needs  _ me. Why would they? I’m just a nightmare. The thing that children tell their parents about at three in the morning with tears in their eyes. I’m nothing but something to fear.

“. . . get out,” I breathed, looking vaguely in his direction.

“What?”

“Get out,” I said again. This time with hostility on my tongue. My jaw clenched and my teeth ground together. I stepped closer to him, the polished point of blade inches from his chest. “Get out of my sight. Get out of my home. Get out of my life! I never should have saved you! I knew all of this was a mistake! GET OUT!”

“Fine, I’m leaving.” He waved his hands in frustration. “Whoever he is, I’m starting to think that he should have finished the job and killed you too.”

“Pix, open the goddamn door.”

The door opened.

The door closed.

I threw the sword across the room.

Knives stabbed into the soft wood of the tables.

Tears streamed down my cheeks.

Blades slashed at mats.

Cupboard doors ripped from their hinges.

Plates smashed.

And I fell to my knees surrounded by glass.

That night wasn’t unlike others, as I cried myself to sleep, curled up on the roof. The white noise of traffic and the river intertwined and unraveled themselves like dancers in the spotlight of the moon until everything went dark.

And the music they danced to stopped.

* * *

A figure black as the void and with brilliant silver eyes appeared in front of where I lay. He appeared not quite out of thin air but almost as if he’d been standing there for years and I’d only just noticed. He towered over me. He had no features distinguishable from his silhouette. I should have felt threatened but I didn’t. Something in the air around us told me that he came here in peace.

Like we were one and the same.

“You wanted to know your fate.” The words were his, but they came from nowhere. He never made a sound, yet the sentence had been spoken. “You must first learn your beginning.”

“You’re like me.”

“No, we are not.” He spoke slowly, his tone thoughtful and kind. He talked to me like we were old friends. “But we  _ did _ choose you. Let us tell you the story you have forgotten.” He stepped closer and held out a hand. It dwarfed mine in comparison. I looked at him, trying to read into his eyes, to see some ill motivation or lies. “You will find no quarrel with us, young one. We will only tell you the truth.”

“What if I don’t want to know the truth?”

“Truth is not something to be feared, nor is its bringers to be distrusted. It is to be revered, learned from. Truth makes us better, even if it’s hard to give. Even if it’s hard to hear.”

I hesitantly took his hand, and the hard, metal and concrete world melted away into a soft, bright and lush one. A forest. 

A familiar forest. 

“We remember when you were just a small child running through the trees. You went by another name then.” His gaze followed a young girl with curly orange hair and a pink raincoat digging at the ground, stirring mud with a stick as the rain came down and tickled the pearly birch leaves. She didn’t notice us. She only giggled and hopped in the puddles. “This was a day that the universe foretold,” he said, starting to walk forward.

I tried to keep up with his long strides.

“There is a monster in your home,” he said curtly.

“What?” I asked, taken aback, reminded again of the ugly word’s existence.

“Despite your beliefs, you are not the monster.” It was like he was reading my thoughts. “We foresaw his being. And we chose you because you have a great part to play in a great battle to come. But in order to create you, we had to also create him,” he continued, not looking back at me while he seemed to just wander through the trees. 

His steps were graceful and balletic, even for his great size. Eight feet in height plus that of a tall brimmed hat. He wore long draping robes that swayed even if there was no whistling breeze to rustle the trees. 

“Wait but, why not just  _ not _ choose me? Problem solved, right?”

“He is not the only threat to your world. And you do more than just defeat  _ him _ . There are others, allies. You save them as well. You’ve already started without even knowing.”

“Peter?”

“Had we not picked you, Peter Parker would be dead. There are many more on the list.”

“What does  _ he _ have to do with saving the world?! He’s just a kid in a costume,” I disagreed. He stopped and turned around, facing me once again.

“You will see. This is as time should be.”

“But who are you? Why do you keep referring to yourself as we?” I asked desperately as I ran up to him.

“Find out for yourself.” He turned to walk away once more, but the air grew cold and lonely. I wanted to follow but my heart tugged the leash.

“Wait,” I pleaded, watching him become more distant in the haze of fog that had rolled in. “Why do you say all this as if it’s already happened?”

Everything paused. The rain, the wind, the subtle curls in the wisps of the fog. The giggles, the trees, their leaves. My breath. His steps.

“Because it is the truth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated and yall can find me on tumblr at @paradoxicalblueberry  
> Thanks for reading! Hope you all have a great rest of your week


	7. Interruptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who comes over for a visit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:D

Everything was in chaos. I woke up with a mild headache and something feeling wrong in my heart. The sun wasn’t up yet. I didn’t bother with breakfast and went straight to cleaning up the mess. 

My mess.

I duct taped the slashes in the blue mats, swept up glass, replaced light bulbs, carelessly sewed up the couch cushions, and made a mental note to buy more plates.

The dream wouldn’t stop playing through my mind. It felt too real. The raindrops on my skin, the wind against my face, my bare feet planted in the rich, muddy soil with blades of grass sticking out from in between my toes. And the figure. Something about him was, was . . . it’s indescribable. His words echoed in my skull and the girl’s pure and innocent laughter still rang in my ears.

The laughter that used to be mine. 

I debated about asking Pix about it, one side of me said that it was just a dream. The other recited his words:

‘The truth is not something to be feared.’

I finally gave up.

“Pix, do you have any security footage of last night?” 

“Of course, why do you ask?” she answered, her voice chipper like every morning.

“I had the weirdest dream last night, but⸺” I started, standing up from where I was crouched trying to reach a shard of glass that had slid under one of the plant stands. I surveyed the work I’d done. Most of the big things were fixed up, but something caught my eye. It looked like a scorch mark peeking out from under a rug. 

I looked at it curiously, losing the words that were already lined up into a sentence. It didn’t smear when I scratched my foot against it, nor did it leave a charcoal stain on my toes. A small cloud of dust filled the air when I flipped up the corner of the rug, bringing a coughing fit from my lungs.

I waved away the cloud with a quip about needing to vacuum more on my tongue, but my jaw gaped at the rest of the mark. 

“ . . . but, I’m starting to think that it wasn’t a dream,” I breathed, my voice going quiet with bewilderment at the two raven black footprints. “. . . Can you put the video up on my computer?” My gaze tore away from the floor with the familiar start-up ding of the monitor.

“What are you looking for?” Pix inquired.

“I’m not entirely sure,” I replied, sitting down at the desk. 

The footage seemed normal. There was no poltergeist burning footprints into the cement, no strange man from my dream, nothing. They just weren’t there until they were.

“Why would there only be two? Like, why isn’t there a trail? That would mean that they’re deliberate? Why would someone just walk into the middle of the room and, and⸺wait.” I rewound the video. There was a slight glitch. I watched it over and over, slowing down the video but nothing distinctive happened, until I noticed the top right corner.

“There’s a gap.” I waited for a response but none came. “Pix there’s a gap! The timestamp jumps from two fifty-seven to three nineteen.”

“That is very strange.”

“ _ Strange _ ? That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” I huffed. “Camera 3 stopped recording for  _ twenty-two _ minutes last night.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what kind of response you want?”

“Of course you don’t, you piece of junk.”

“I enjoy our time together, too.”

“Is there anything wrong with it? The camera, I mean? Like did the battery go out? Did something short?” I glanced behind me at the small security camera in the corner of the wall. It still held its lazily blinking red light.

“Nothing that I can detect but you can check it to make sure.”

“Yeah . . .” I said, getting up and grabbing a kitchen chair. It was precariously balanced on the couch cushion but I stood up on it anyway. The side panel of the camera unscrewed easily and the hardware inside seemed okay. 

“Nothing seems to be wrong. Nothing’s burned and wires aren’t fried so what caused it?” I pondered. “Pix, bring up the current feed, will ya?”

I turned to look at the computer screen. The back of my head popped up on the screen. I ignored how unkempt my hair was and waved the back of my hand to see how long the lag in the video was. 

Everything seemed normal. I went back to digging around in the wires.

“Raine?”

“What about the other cameras? Did they fritz too?” I muttered, giving up and screwing the panel back and jumping down from the wobbly chair.

“Raine?”

“What about the ones outside? Cameras 1 and 2?” I went and hastily put on my jacket, making sure to put my earpiece in my pocket. I dug through the fridge, grabbing a muffin and taking a bite. The excitement of the mystery made my stomach gurgle with hunger.

“Raine.”

I ran over to the door and opened it.

“What Pix⸺” 

I gasped and stepped back, horror on my face. The muffin threatened to come back up. My breathing became dangerously close to hyperventilation.

A man stood in front of me.

A man with a goatee and a pair of sunglasses.

A man who’s been in magazines.

A man who has fought aliens. 

A man who is considered a hero. 

“You have a visitor,” Pix deadpanned.

Alarms and warnings blared in my brain. 

No time to think. 

I fumbled for my blade, not taking my eyes off his. He didn’t move except for a tilt of his head at my sword pointed into his chest.

“Don’t come any closer,” I warned, stumbling backward as he stepped forward.

“He appears to be unarmed,” Pix interjected calmly.

“I don’t care, get back!” I said again, my hand clamming up and shaking, making the sword unsteady. My other hand was behind me, feeling around for the bookshelf that was somewhere I couldn’t see.

The man took off his glasses allowing his brown eyes to pierce into my soul. I felt the edges of the room turning darker as my fear stabbed deeper into my chest. I jumped at the corner of the table poking into my back. I didn’t dare blink or look away. 

I blindly grabbed the first thing I could get my hand on—which happened to be a porcelain dolphin—and threw it at him. He flinched and backed away. I was already skipping steps on the stairs with the sword retracted and clipped to my pajama pants when the dolphin shattered on the ground. 

He yelled as I furiously unlatched the window and scrambled out onto the roof. The air was cooler and brought goosebumps to my skin. With my feet back under me, I ran across the gravel rooftop and without a wavering stride, jumped over the large gap in the buildings. I tucked and rolled onto the next one over.

A quick glimpse over my shoulder told me that he wasn’t following. I didn’t stop running.

“Pix!” I yelled, putting in my earpiece.

“Uhh yeah, she won’t be much help, at the moment,” he retorted, his voice coming through the comm.

“Goddammit!”

“She is really remarkable, you know that? Did  _ you _ build her?”

“Shut up⸺and leave me⸺alone!” I said in between breaths.

“I’ll leave you alone once we talk.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Please stop running.”

“No⸺” A scream erupted from my burning lungs as a roaring blast of wind came from the alley between buildings and strong metal hands dug into my shoulders mid-jump. Within half of a second, I was already thirty feet from the roof and nearly fifty from the ground. 

“You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be, kid.”

“SAYS THE GUY WITH THE METAL SUIT  _ KIDNAPPING _ ME!” I yelled over the wind and engine.

“Well, hey, you were the one who decided to run.”

The rooftops grew smaller as we flew higher. Several intermittent cries and shrieks ripped through the air as I naturally clawed at the metal armor for something to hold on to.

“LET GO OF ME!” I wailed, my heart about to give out, as we flew over the river. 

“Okay.”

With that, the grip on me relaxed.

And I fell.

The wind whipped my hair and jacket. The water got closer. It went from just a smear of green to cloudy teal dappled with white reflections from the morning sun.

As I fell and zero gravity turned my insides into a free-for-all, I did was any sensible person would do. I thought about the girl playing in the woods, the tall man, the birds that were twittering, the⸺

Silver eyes peered at me through a reflection in a window. It was the figure from my dream, but now something was different. Now, I knew, no, remembered something new. The world slowed and I watched him silently point to my left and vanish.

The red and gold flashed in the sun. Instinct took over and ripped the sword from my waistband and pointed it into the chest of the armor. Sparks flew as metal ground against metal. 

The dark, sticky, feeling of fear filled my gut at what I’d just done, but there wasn’t much time to think about it when the force of the impact knocked me forward and tore the handle from my hands.

The water greeted me feet first. It wrapped around my clothes before seeping in. It went up my nose and in my mouth, and I made the mistake of inhaling. An infinity of murky green crushed in from all sides. I couldn’t tell up from down. 

My head bobbed up after an eternity of floundering. Water sputtered out of my lungs. Choked coughs spasmed through my body, making it hard to tread water. I spun around, beginning to swim for the closest land, but the rumble was back. The metal man with a sword sticking out of its chest blocked the sun like a thunderous cloud. I swam faster but it was futile.

It dipped down and jerked me out of the river. I gasped at its painful grasp on my ankle. 

“Okay, I’m done playing,” he said sternly. I looked up and saw the tip of the sword sticking out from between the shoulder blades of metal. “I told you, I only want to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos/comments/predictions/screams/your souls are all appreciated and yall can find me on tumblr at @paradoxicalblueberry  
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Divided

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raine sheds some light on a few things, but is still cryptic as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo guys I'm so fucking mad about the sony thing I can't believe that they did that. Also, the chapter is quite a bit longer than normal so sorry

Tony Stark stood on the small wharf in front of my warehouse as his metal suit carried me by the ankle over the water. A wave of relief washed over me. 

He wasn’t in the suit. 

I hadn’t stabbed him.

The skyscrapers grew out of the ground like tree roots and the river sparkled in the morning sun in a way I’d never noticed. The water on my clothes dripped down onto my face as my hand grazed along the water, creating ripples in the soft waves. 

There seemed to be a trend of my goodie-goodie opponents catching me upside-down. 

After accepting the fact that I couldn’t avoid the man, I was oddly calm. This could be my end. This could be my last day of freedom. This could be my last day on earth for all I knew. Maybe it was just all the blood rushing to my head, but I felt detached from the situation, from my impending doom. 

I was still baffled by the dream. By the footprints under my carpet. By the shadow in the window. By its warning. 

I felt torn apart. Not physically—though my ankle threatened to dislocate from the socket—but emotionally and intellectually. My mind was split in two. 

I should’ve been freaking out, but I wasn’t.

I should’ve been mad.

I should’ve been scared of the . . . the⸺

The birds. 

Something about the birds in my dream felt wrong. I knew it when I was in those woods. I knew it when I was falling. There should’ve been birds. There were. But there weren’t at the same time. In my memories, there were always birds. Rain or shine, there were birds. 

There were always chittery tunes from the trees that told me that everything was okay. That told me that I was safe. 

I landed on the rough cement with a wet slap. The metal suit, however, settled itself gracefully, almost as if to mock me. The child in my heart wanted to stick out her tongue at it. The other part of me wanted to just stab it again.

“Now, that should be impossible,” the billionaire stated right off the bat, utterly dumbfounded at the blade stuck fast in the breastplate. “See this is gold titanium,” he knocked on the sturdy metal. “No blade should be able to penetrate that. ” 

I sat on the ground silently, not even looking at the man. My focus was on my foot, massaging the angry red skin.

“. . . how’d you know that I wasn’t in there? Or, did you not care if you killed me.” The question was sharp, biting into the air with jagged teeth. It broke the dam holding back my anger and frustration at the entire morning.

I slowly got up to my feet, not without some curses slipping out under my breath. 

My jaw and fists clenched and my nails dug into the skin of my palms. My gaze locked onto his, my eyes burning bright with my fury. 

“Now what?” I said with a bitter smile on my face. “What are you going to do? Take me to jail? Take me to SHIELD? Make me a lab rat?”

“I told you, I just want to talk,” he said calmly.

“Don’t blame me for not being convinced,” I scoffed.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“Yep.”

“So, you didn’t care if you killed me?” he asked doubtfully. “You sure had a good enough chance to do that when you opened the door.”

I hesitated.  _ Why should I waste my time with him? _ half of me said. 

_ Why shouldn’t I, though? _ argued the other.

“When you hacked into my comm, I would have heard the sound of the thrusters, or whatever, in the background. That’s how I knew you weren't in there,” I lied.

“Okay, so what’s the sword made out of?” He walked over to where the blade was stuck and tried to yank it free. I hid the smirk that formed on my lips at his poor recovery from his startled expression when the sword didn’t budge.

“Why should I tell you?” I shook my head.

“Because I’ll give it back to you when we’re done here.” He paused to try again but to no avail. “Jesus, okay what is this? Seriously. Sword in the stone, dark magic? You have to be ‘worthy’? You know, I know a guy with the same thing. It’s a horribly overused trope.”

I raised my brow in disbelief. Was this what a great mind concludes when it gives up? Magic?

I flicked my wrist and the bangle-like bracelet I wore lit up blue. The sword trembled against the metal, vibrating into a blur as it wiggled free. It flew into my hand, leaving glowing hot cracks in the armor. 

“Vibranium hollow blade and hilt. Russian steerhide leather grip. Polished brass crossguard. Electromagnet in the pommel,” I listed.

“Hollow?” he questioned, looking back at me with wide eyes filled with awe, overlooking the fact that I had my weapon back.

The blade retracted in on itself with a series of clicks and I clipped it back onto my waistband.

“See, now we’re getting somewhere,” he smiled. 

* * *

“Sit down and don’t touch anything,” I ordered, pointing to the sofa. Without a second glance, I walked away to go change into clothes that didn’t stink of the Hudson River.

When I came back, he was  _ not _ sitting on the couch but roaming freely around the training space like a toddler in a toy store.

“So what did you do to Pix?” I asked bluntly, taking the five hundred year old longsword from his grasp and delicately hanging it back up on the wall in its display as if it were made of sand.

“Just a virus to deactivate her for a while,” he replied simply.

“How long is a while?!”

“Mmm, ‘bout an hour.”

I took a long breath and bit my tongue to keep from saying anything more on the subject.

“Why are you here? If you’re not going to take me to the police or to SHIELD, what do you want with me?”

“I wanted to thank you for saving Peter’s life.” He wandered over to lean against the table. Poetic that it was the same table Peter almost died on.

“Is that it? Send a card next time,” I deadpanned, sweeping up the shattered remains of the dolphin figurine from the floor. 

“Let's hope there isn’t a next time,” he said through gritted teeth. “He told me about you. You, and your AI, and your . . .  _ abilities _ .”

“All you’re telling me is that Peter is a snitch, Stark.”

“And he told me you know who killed his uncle.” There it was. The other shoe dropped. The  _ real _ reason he was here. 

“What about it?” I asked, snark leaking into the snide comment.

He paused and looked at me. I knew that look. I’ve seen that look for most of my life. It’s the look that speaks for itself, asks what was wrong with you, wonders if this is all really worth it.

“Okay, let’s start with something easy. What’s your name? There isn’t any record of you on any camera or surveillance system. You aren’t anywhere on the internet, which, in this day and age, is quite a feat. And kind of weird for a teenager, if I’m being honest.”

I glared at him.

“. . . we’ll come back to that one, then.” I followed him with my eyes as he walked in a slow circle around me.

“Your, uh, shadow puppets. Where’d you learn that?”

“Dunno,” I shrugged. “One day I was normal, the next, everything went to shit.”

“Okay.” He nodded like my answer was satisfactory enough for him. “Let’s talk tech. Your AI, Pix, right? Did you build her?”

“Mostly.”

“Mostly? How? You know what, how did you build  _ any _ of this stuff?” he gestured to the junk on my desk and random gadgets littering the place. “I’m assuming you’re not in school.”

“I have a lot of free time,” I answered cryptically with a smirk.

“No, if someone has free time, they learn how to paint,” he said, clearly jaded at the lack of progress in the conversation. “There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

“My bastard of a brother was gonna do the whole electrical engineering and coding thing. All his stupid shit became mine when he left. So like I said, I had a lot of free time to figure it out,” I stated emphatically.

“That’s a very callous way to talk about a sibling, especially in the past tense. What happened?”

“Next question.”

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Why do you steal alien tech and sell it to mobsters?” His words turned sharp once again.

“Because Gus doesn’t accept candle sticks and egg cartons.”

“What?” he asked, taken aback and a little amused.

“Gus owns the warehouses. I pay him to live here,” I stated patronizingly, over pronouncing every syllable.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “What’s with the swords? Don’t quote me on this but I’m pretty sure guns are more effective.” He reached up and took a scimitar from its pedestal, inspecting the curved steel.

“So are ballistic missiles,” I swiftly seized the blade from him and gently set it back where it belonged. “But  _ you _ chose the tin man from wizard of oz.”

“. . . you got me there. But there has to be more.”

“I’m done playing these stupid games. What do you want from me? You show up at my home at seven in the morning, not to take me away or anything but to talk?! Why are you interested? Why do you care?!”

He seemed to relax, yet the air turned more serious. 

“Yesterday, Peter showed up at my lab in a frenzy asking me if I could find out who killed Ben. I told him no and he blew up. Eventually, he told me about you.

“I said that there weren’t any traces of you on the internet, but there are police files that I connected to you,” he continued. “Reports of brutal deaths of several crime lords. They all had the same MO. An untraceable sword wound. Normal blades will leave at least a tiny residue or at least something that tells what type of material they are. These cases,  _ your _ cases, didn’t. The vibranium explains it.”

“Get to your point,” I said impatiently, holding the fear that tugged at the back of my throat.

“I’m saying for a lowly thief, arms dealer, and sixteen year old, you’re brave enough to take on some pretty big enemies. That’s why I’m here. Because you’re a curiosity. A mystery.” His expression softened. It brought unease from my bones and a chill through my blood. 

“I was just trying to keep him safe.” My voice went low and quiet in defeat. What was the point of being cagey anymore? Stark already saw through me. He knew it and I knew it. 

“I know,” he said thoughtfully, mirroring my tone.

“He’s gonna go and get himself killed.”

“I’m not here to tell you that you did something wrong. I would have done the same thing. Peter doesn’t think straight when it comes to family.” He wavered, debating his next sentence. “But I know there’s something you still aren’t telling me, though.”

He was right. 

So I told him everything. Well . . . everything that I was sure of and the didn’t make me sound schizophrenic.

* * *

The sun crept closer to where the sky and earth kissed in the west, making the sky blush against the city’s buildings. The evening nonchalantly dissolved into twilight, letting the strongest stars shine faintly through the veil of purple. 

The creek of an old rusted door struggling against its hinges floated through the still air already filled with the orchestra of city noises. My smooth footsteps walked out from the stairwell onto the roof. 

“I know you’re there.”

I couldn’t read any emotion in Peter’s tone, which only added to the anxiety churning in my gut.

“I know,” I replied, walking out from the shadow cast by the outcrop of bricks of the stairwell. “How’s your side?”

“I took out the stitches this morning. It’s just a scar now.” Had the world been muted, we would be considered strangers. He didn’t acknowledge me as I walked up behind him and sat down on the ledge of the apartment building. My legs dangled off the edge in the orange light. 

“You weren't kidding when you said that you heal quick, huh?” I forced an awkward laugh. “Stark came and talked to me this morning.” 

“What?! Why?” He broke his broody composure and looked down at me with wide eyes. 

“I wondered that too,” I chuckled. He sat down next to me. The tension in the air around him changed. It didn’t disperse but it felt like he gave up trying to fight my presence. 

“Why are you here?” 

“To make a proper introduction.” I didn’t look at him. I focused my nervous energy towards the golden reflections off the buildings. Was I ready to say all this? 

A fight started in my heart. My two halves arguing. One saying I should run away.  _ Leave! _ it yelled. The other said that I need to let people in. 

None of it helped. Nothing eased my mind. All it did was make my heart beat faster.

“My name is Lorraine Lancaster, but it didn’t used to be,” I started. “When I was eight years old, I came home to find my parents dead with kitchen knives sticking out of their chests. And he was there, waiting for me.

“His name is Adrian Brooks Howard. He had me pinned down. Just before he was going to plunge a knife into my heart, the crazed and wild look in his burning golden eyes changed. He let me go and vanished. The police found me hiding in my closet.”

It took everything in me to keep my voice level. To keep my breaths even. I finally tore my attention from the horizon and looked into Peter’s eyes. The sun painted his face orange. He didn’t seem angry. He wasn’t furious. His expression said nothing but his eyes looked at me with compassion. 

“Everyday, I wonder why he let me go. I wonder why he went crazy in the first place. He was normal the day before, but then, something just snapped. I don’t know.

“The day after I met you, I had Pix find all the info on you that there was. That’s how I found a security video of your uncle being mugged, but the video was blurry and poor quality. When Pix finally cleaned it up, I recognized him. No facial scan would find a name for the mugger in the video, but I knew. It was him. 

“Last night, you accused me of protecting him. I wasn’t trying to. I  _ really was _ trying to keep you from getting yourself killed but . . . a part of me,” I paused, still making final decisions, finally relenting and letting one of the halves of me take the lead. “A part of me couldn’t let you kill my brother, at least not until I got some answers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are appreciated and yall can find me on tumblr at @paradoxicalblueberry  
> Thanks for reading, please scream in the comments about literally anything


	9. Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tolls of exhaustion weigh on Raine's shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so here's the thing my dudes. School started today and I'm already kinda swamped. but don't worry. I have the next, like, 14 chapters written, so hopefully, there won't be many delays with that but If i don't get a chapter out on time, just know that I prolly didn't have the time to do the final read through and edit and post it . . . so sorry in advance.

“What are you?” 

The child’s voice was so small, yet it rang out through the dripping woods like the toll of a bell. She stood tall. Not defensive nor afraid of the dark, looming figure before her. His presence seemed to suck some of the bright sunlight out of the air. 

His silvery gaze lowered to meet her green eyes, eyes that were filled with nothing but curiosity.

“We are watchers.” His words were slow and strong, clear and murky, loud and noiseless.

“Watchers of what?”

“The earth.” 

“Kinda like the birds,” she stated blatantly. He cocked his head questioningly, taken aback.

“The birds,” she continued. “I used to be afraid of the ducks at the river but Adrian says that the birds are mostly small so they aren’t noticed much, but they watch over the world and protect the children from monsters. They sing them to sleep and their songs give them good dreams. Are you  _ my _ bird?”

The world quieted in anticipation, as if the trees wanted to hear the answer too. The wind muffled in the silence, the branches’ sways eased, the thunder softened. The world readied itself for his vow to this small girl, nature daring him to say no.

“I suppose I am.” 

And the universe sighed in relief.

Her wide smile lacked a front tooth.

“What’s your name?” 

“We don’t have a name,” he responded simply.

“Can I call you Wren? Wren’s are a kind of bird.”

He chuckled, the low laughter mimicking the rumble from a distant storm.

“If we were to ask you to fight a monster someday, what would you say?” He knelt down, yet still towered over her. The air went cold once again.

“Am I the hero of the story?”

“One of the  _ greatest _ ,” he said with a sympathetic smile.

“Then I would say . . . bring it on! The hero always wins and gets a happy ending.” She picked up a stick from the rain-soaked ground, her focus no longer on the figure. She whipped the stick around in the air, imitating a sword fight against a tree. “Just like the knights that Dad always talks about. They protect the lands far and wide. I’ll be a knight someday! I’ll fight any monsters that dares to show themselves.”

“How do you know that  _ we’re _ not a monster?”

She hesitated and looked back at him, taking a moment to formulate her words. 

“Because you’re . . . you’re different,” she said finally.

“How?”

“Well, you said that you watch over the earth. You’re my bird. Monsters don’t talk. They have sharp teeth and snarl at you. Monsters hide in the dark and wait for people to eat.”

He watched her intently for a moment. His expression held nothing readable. Dread perhaps, but she didn’t see it.

“We will always protect you.” 

“Why?”

“Because of what’s in your heart.” He delicately pointed at her chest. A small pearly glow grew from her chest and spread out like a wave, engulfing her entire body. 

Her fiery curls of hair straightened out and faded to a deep black. Her skin fell paler and her eyes gleamed with the same brilliance as his.

“Stop,” I whispered quietly from where I stood watching the scene unfold. Tears threatened to fall and my chin quivered. “I know what happens next, I don’t need to see it again.”

The girl and the figure faded, leaving me alone in my nightmare.

It rained. Oh, it rained.

“You said that you would protect me,” I whispered, not even bothering to turn around and face the shadow. “How could you let him . . .”

“Where would you be if he hadn’t?”

A breath caught in my throat.

“Are you saying you let him?” I asked even quieter. The child that I used to be, the one who would stand up to the monster, she hid. She hid behind my memories. She was finally afraid of something worth her fear.

“No.”

“You said you would protect me. You promised.” Tears streaked their ways down my cheeks.

“Yes,” he replied forcibly, “we did. And we  _ have _ .”

I took a shaky breath and held down my sob.

“Then why couldn’t you protect them too?”

And it rained. 

Oh, it rained.

* * *

“I don’t understand why I have to be here,” I sighed, walking up to Peter and looking out at the city from the parking garage rafters. He pulled off his mask to look at me. The sun blazed in its late morning fury. It reflected off bits of the snow that had fallen overnight and hadn’t melted yet.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” Concern stained his face. “You look exhausted.”

“Shut up,” I said defensively.

“No, I mean⸺”

“What? So I haven’t been sleeping that well. What’s that to you?!” I snapped, but guilt soon washed over me when I saw Peter recoil. “Let’s just get this over with, yeah?” I urged, more gently this time. “So, why did you bring me here?”

“Oh, uh,” he began cautiously. “I caught him trying to buy weapons from my homecoming date’s dad.”

Peter laughed as my brained buffered.

“Okay . . . what?”

“Remember the night we met? That dude with the metal wings? Well, he had a whole operation of selling high tech weapons.” I tried to hide back the smile at the absurdity of the story. “Well, anyway, he turned out to be my homecoming date’s dad.”

“That sounds . . .” I was lost for words. Bedside manner really wasn’t my forte. 

“Yeah, it was pretty bad. She moved to Washington.”

An awkward silence descended. I didn’t really know what to say. Was I supposed to apologize about a situation like that? It felt like time had stopped between us. Nothing happened. The seconds of ear-splitting silence stretched like a rubber band about to snap. 

“There he is!”

Oh, thank god.

“Him?” I asked, brows furrowed at the dark skinned man walking to his car.

“Yeah.” Peter pulled his mask back on.

“The guy carrying groceries?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Dude, you’re  _ such _ an idiot,” I exclaimed, rolling my eyes at him, only getting a look of bewilderment in return.

“Hey! No, I’m not,” he said, his pitch going higher and nearly cracking in offense. “I swear, he’s the guy who led me to Toomes,” he assured me.

“Oh, I have no doubt of that,” I replied under my breath as I dropped down from our perch and landed on the concrete.

“Aaron Davis,” I hollered, sauntering towards him with a gentle sway of my hips. He jumped and looked somewhat frantically at me. “Y’know, I really miss doing business with you.”

“Lorraine?” He relaxed and went back to set down the grocery bags on the roof of his car. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Oh, just . . .  _ prowling,”  _ I said with a smirk.

“So you heard about that, huh?” He turned back to me with an embarrassed laugh. “Such a stupid name. The news coined it.”

“Wait? You two know each other?” Peter asked incredulously after jumping down to join us.

“Yo, what’s he doing here? Do you know him?” Davis demanded.

“Unfortunately,” I deadpanned. “Heard he caught you cheatin’ on my tech. What, my guns too expensive or did you switch for the customer service?” He looked down at the ground to avoid my glare. “I’m joking,” I chuckled.

“Oh, okay,” he said with a nervous breath.

“But I got a name for you. Adrian Howard. Spark anything?”

Davis’ expression darkened.

“I don’t know what you’re looking for but you won’t find it here. Please leave,” he stated monotonously. He was scared.

“What?” Peter wandered up next to me. He struggled to find a comfortable place to hold his hands, eventually putting them at his sides.

“I don’t want anything to do with that guy.” Davis looked askance, shifting his weight from one foot to the other anxiously. His eyes held a wild glint, shifting all around as if someone might be watching. 

Or listening.

“Why?” Peter prompted.

“He’s dangerous.”

“We know  _ that _ but⸺”

“No,” Davis interrupted me. “I mean  _ dangerous _ , like, ‘has people who have people who have people to kill me if I ever say anything’ dangerous.”

Hesitation paused the conversation, fear holding us back from what was next. There was only the traffic below, a flock of pigeons, and the gentle tap of a foot.

“A-are you a part of those people?”

“Do I work for them?” Davis squinted at me in disbelief. “Hell no! But they will know if anything is said. They always know.”

“Is there anything you  _ can _ tell us.”

“No. I’m sorry.”

His words didn’t match his face. His stare bore into me, trying to tell me something. 

“Come on.” I pushed Peter out of my way, walking toward the stairwell. He lingered a moment, but caught up soon enough. His brisk steps echoed throughout the garage. 

“You better be careful with whoever you throw your hat in with, Lorraine!” Davis shouted from behind us. I couldn’t tell if it was a threat or just a general warning but I didn’t like the sound of it. I didn’t turn back and continued walking.

“Well this was a waste of time,” I sighed exasperatedly as the heavy door of the small room slid closed. I sat down on the metal grated stairs and held my pounding head in my hands.

“Did you hear that?” Peter blurted like a giddy child.

“Hear what?” I groaned, looking back up at him

“The tapping. He was tapping his foot.”

“So?” I sighed.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You don’t look too great.”

“I’m fine! Get to your point. The tapping.”

“It was morse code,” he explained tentatively. “Here, Pix?” he asks.

“Hey, you have no right to address  _ my _ AI!”

“Calm down, jeez.” He pulled off his mask, revealing his stern face.

“Yes, Peter?” Pix chimed in calmly, sensing the tension.

“Can you play back the audio from the last five minutes, please.”

I put my head back in my arms, failing to stop the tears from spilling over, but doing my best at hiding it. My whole body hurt. My brain rang with every uncontrollable heartbeat. My lungs ached. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing  _ him. _

His face standing above me. The blood that was splattered on his cheeks. His vile and corrupt smile. His jet black hair. The golden eyes that wanted me dead, that looked at me and saw meat for slaughter.

Peter listened intently to the conversation that played out of my bracelet. I couldn’t pay attention to the words I only barely remember saying, so I focused on the irregular beat of a shoe on concrete.

“It’s morse code,” he muttered again.

“Well, what’s it say.” My voice shook from my ragged breaths.

“Hey, stop. Lorraine, you’re really worrying me.” He knelt down in front of me. “Why don’t you go home and we can pick this back up tomorrow.” 

“No! We have spent too long chasing down dead ends and this is the first time in a week that we’ve got something! Now tell me what the morse code said, goddammit!”

“Onyx. He said onyx.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated and yall can find me on tumblr at @paradoxicalblueberry  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Sorry that this chapter was kinda really shitty


	10. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony disapproves. If only he knew how lonely Raine was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there this chapter sux and I'm sorry its bad but I like the next one a lot more so you're just gon have to wait for more good words by me okey bye I'm still sorry thanks for coming to my ted talk refunds are at the door byeeeee

“You look like shit,” the gruff voice called out from the corner of the room.

“Fuck, don’t you knock?!” I whispered to myself with my head in my arms against the kitchen table. A migraine split through my brain like an ax was embedded in my skull. The air around me was suffocating and pounded against my eardrums. My muscles were numb and yet ached to the bone like each layer of flesh was slowly being peeled back like a hangnail.

“Not when I know that you and Peter snuck out again to look for trouble.” Even Stark’s footsteps sounded bitter against the night.

I sighed as I lifted my head and turned around to face him with bleak nothingness in my eyes.

“Yeah,” his expression flashed with frustration, “I put an extra tracker in his suit.”

“Why do you care about this kid so much?” My words fell deflated. I walked over to sit on the stairs. Maybe they would be uncomfortable enough to keep me awake.

“Why do you keep lying to me?” he sighed in disappointment.

“What?”

“You said that you told me everything.” He rubbed his face under his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah and I did!” I argued, trying to put some life into my tone. When did all this get so exhausting? The chase. The hunt. The heist. It all used to be fun. That's why I did it. It was the thrill of the job that drew me in.

I broke eye contact with him to watch his shoes. They were new. Polished leather. They shuffled against the concrete with a gentle scuffing noise while they shined lightly, reflecting a blurry moon from the window.

“Really?” he said doubtfully. The word was thrown at me. It was unsatisfied. Just like everything else I touched. I screw up everything I do. I make everyone else’s lives worse.

I huddled further into myself against the icy room that felt like was going to collapse in on me.

The abrupt movement of the rug drew my eyes from the floor and a chill rose the hair on the back of my neck.

“I’m guessing this isn’t a home decor thing.” His brown eyes bore into mine as he held the corner of the rug up. Panicked heartbeats rattled through my rib cage and quarreled with my breaths.

“What’s so interesting about some footprints?” My attempt to sound nonchalant was foiled by the hitch in my voice

“You don’t think they're a little weird.” He raised a brow and looked at me like I was a child. “How long have they been here?”

I looked down at the voidish black marks.

“A while.”

“Oh stop being cryptic.” He let the carpet flop onto itself and stalked up to me. “I scanned them and according to, well,  _ everything _ , they don’t exist.”

“Don’t you think I already know that?” I spat back, my taut thread of composure snapping. “Of course I’ve scanned them a thousand times! I don’t fucking know what they are! It’s not a scorch mark, not a chemical stain, not paint. There's no trail walking into the place, no nothing. So I’m  _ sorry _ for not telling you about something I didn’t think was worth anything. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t search my home.”

“How could it not be worth anything?” He kept his words steady and shook his head in confusion. “What happened when they showed up? Did you see it?” He gestured wildly.

I flinched.

“If you’re asking if I saw someone  _ teleport _ into my home just to leave some footprints, I think I would’ve given it a higher priority.”

“No, I mean did anything else out of the ordinary happen?”

“Again, no.”

“If you’re not going to tell me the truth, that’s fine. Do whatever you want. But I don’t want you and Peter going out looking for danger anymore.” He showed no anger. His face was only painted with disappointment and regret.

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. But when he looked down at me, all I could see was pity and disappointment.

“I thought,” I started weakly. “I thought you wanted to find him just as much as Peter did.”

“I do. I do!” He motioned passionately again, “but I don’t want you to get Peter killed in the process. It’s already bad enough with his nightly patrols. I don’t need your recklessness to rub off on him.”

“My recklessness? _MY_ _RECKLESSNESS_?!”

Distant thunder rumbled through the steel building.

“Yes. You are  _ reckless _ . You are  _ irresponsible _ . You have nothing to lose. Peter,” he hesitated. His hands fidgeted and he turned his gaze up to the moon just as it was about to be overtaken by the impending storm.

“Peter has everything to lose,” I finished his sentence for him. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Well, call me when you figure it out.” His hushed tone struck me hard in the gut. Another grumble of thunder echoed through the sky as the percussion of rain against the roof picked up.

“Wait.”

“You’re a good kid, Lorraine. You just need to get your priorities in order and decide what you’re fighting for.” He turned to leave. The door slid open for him. He stopped, maybe contemplating a last remark.

But he just pulled out an umbrella and before I knew it, I was alone once again, another phantom gone and lost into the storm of the unknown.

* * *

The lightning danced among the clouds. The volatile electricity did pirouettes and arabesques to the crashing symphony of the storm’s fury. The rain soaked me from head to toe. It seeped into my hair and wove into my clothes and burrowed deep into my bones. There was only a hint of the moon through the dense and ever thickening shadows of the night.

I placed a bet against myself that the moon would show his face before Wren did. He never visited me anymore. He just led me down the dark roads of my dreams like a puppet, probably watching me writhe in anguish at the memories that taunted from the back of my mind.

I waited for hours on the roof for one of them.

Both of them.

None of them.

Anyone.

No one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated and yall can find me on tumblr at @paradoxicalblueberry  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> AnD hEy, If YoU lIkE tHiS sToRy, YoU sHoUlD rEcOmEnD iT tO a FrIeNd Or SoMeThInG iDk ByEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEe
> 
> Also say something nice to Croutons (beta reader) I think she might not being feeling okay


	11. Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dust. Blood. Rubble. Creatively licensed vague-ness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was intentional ;)
> 
> ALSO BLOOD WARNING!

“Lorraine?”

Light spilled through the cracks in the dusty darkness of the debris. It seared into my eyes. 

“Lorraine!”

I was so far away. I couldn’t quite hold on to the words. I tried to blink the black spots out of my vision. Fire burned through my body. 

My right hand was numb. My leg was pinned at just the wrong angle. my knee threatened to dislocate. Blood dripped down my temple from a cut on my eyebrow. My shaky breath hitched with every wheezing gasp I struggled to take. The rubble of concrete strangled the hot air from my lungs.

“We’re gonna get you out of there, just hold on. Everything’s going to be okay.”

* * *

_“You said to us once that you’d fight any monster you could find.”_

_“And you told me that you would protect me no matter what!”_

_“Then I guess we both failed in the other’s eyes.”_

_“What?”_

_“You’ve let it fester and grow.”_

_“What?! What have I let fester? Tell me.”_

_“You let in the darkness, Christine.”_

_“MY NAME IS_ LORRAINE! _Christine died a long time ago!”_

* * *

Dust fell as they pushed away the crumbled pillars. The cracks above me widened, letting more ersatz light through to where I lay broken.

Rocks tumbled, echoing in my ringing ears, as a large weight shifted on top of me.

It hurt.

I screamed.

My heart beat faster.

I choked on the dust that fell.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

* * *

_“I was doing what you told me to do! I heard that woman’s screams so I went after them. How was I supposed to know it was a trap?!”_

_“You were not of sound mind. You haven’t been taking care of yourself, do you understand how⸺”_

_“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF MYSELF WHEN A NIGHTMARE IS PLAYING ON A LOOP IN MY BRAIN?!”_

_“You must remember what you are fighting for? You are a part of a bigger scheme than you know is afoot. You have no idea what’s coming.”_

_“THEN TELL ME WHAT’S COMING! TELL ME WHAT I’M UP AGAINST. STOP BEING SO CRYPTIC!”_

* * *

“I’m just gonna web up this chunk and then you can lift it off of her,” I heard a distant shadow say. It hurt too much to figure out who.

“I’m not sure⸺”

“It’s going to work, just do it.”

I knew that voice. I knew I knew it. My brain dug through the wisps of memories, trying to grasp at them like trying to grasp at smoke.

“Pete, we have to be smart about this.”

There was a moment of ringing silence only disturbed by my weak rasps.

My eyes flung open as garish light flooded my vision from everywhere. I gasped at the sharp pains that rocketed through my ribs and spine as the weight on my chest lifted. Bloody coughs racked my body.

* * *

_“We can’t tell you.”_

_“WHY NOT?!_

* * *

My head lolled to the side where I saw Peter’s face just feet away. Sweat broke through his composure and grime dusted his face. He got down on his stomach and reached his arm out under the concrete. There was barely six inches of clearance.

“IT’S NOT GONNA HOLD! GET HER OUT BEFORE THE WEBS BREAK!” Stark yelled from above.

I forced my sluggish arm to reach for Peter’s. Our fingertips grazed each other. He squeezed his shoulder under the beam and captured my hand in his.

His eyes widened with fear.

“Mr. Stark, we’ve got a problem.”

A small snap of a string radiated through the air, no louder than a whisper from under death’s cloak.

“Well, solve it fast!”

The blood drained from my face as shock receded and realization washed over me to take its place. 

_Snap_.

“There’s a piece of rebar.”

I looked down at the red soaked metal rod protruding from the left side of my gut.

_Snap._

“SO?!”

“LIFT THE CONCRETE HIGHER!” Peter shouted desperately.

_Snap._

The ceiling just above my nose slowly got farther away until there was more than a foot between it and me.

“You’re going to be okay,” Peter whispered as he army crawled under the concrete.

_Snap._

The rock jolted. He ducked instintively. Tears rolled down my face.

“Can you move?” he asked me.

“Get out,” I breathed. “I don’t want you to die too.”

“Don’t say that! We’re going to get you out.” He continued to scan the situation for a solution.

“Dammit Peter, listen to me.”

“HURRY, KID!” Stark hollered. “IT WON'T HOLD FOREVER!”

“No, Lorraine. It’s going to be o⸺”

_SNAP._

* * *

_“Because if we tell you, you won’t win against it. This is your destiny.”_

_“Bullshit! Why can’t you just stop Adrian yourself?!”_

_“We are a being outside of space and time. We can do nothing in your universe except tell the story of fate.”_

* * *

No shriek left my lips. Not a whimper. Not a breath.

“PETER!” Stark screamed.

* * *

_“That’s why the universe picks you._ PICKS _you, Christine. It has not lost faith in you yet. You are the only way in all of time. We’re sorry that this was the price.”_

* * *

Starched linens scrunched in my fist, wrinkling between my fingers with a stiff sound. The air was bitter with sterile scents and filled with a soft droning whirr. My lungs constricted. Terror dropped in my gut. 

_Where am I?_

This wasn’t home. This was a hospital. Hospitals ask questions. Hospitals call the police on thieves. Hospitals do DNA tests. Hospitals call the government on freaks with powers. Hospitals keep digital files. Digital files can be hacked.

If S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t get me, Adrian certainly would.

Something warm touched my hand. I jolted away, hyperventilating and squinting into the light. I brought up my arms, to block my face, heart pounding.

“Lorraine, shhhh. It’s okay. It’s just me.” Peter’s calm face slowly came into focus. “It’s just me,” he repeated in a whisper.

“Where am I,” I demanded, not relaxing an ounce.

“You’re at the Avenger’s compound.” He tried to sound soothing. It didn’t work.

Panic spread across my face as I looked around. 

“I can’t be here. Why did you bring me here?!”

“Lorraine, calm down.”

“I need to leave. I can’t⸺”

My legs gave out when I tried to stand, landing on the floor in a tangle of wires and tubes. 

“Lorraine!”

I drew in a breath through clenched teeth at the flames of pain that licked at my side. The incessant beeping became more erratic, not helping to alleviate the spinning and nausea that bubbled up from my gut. I hardly noticed the plastic brace around my leg and the bandages around my torso.

The moment struck me. A breath wavered on my lips despite the burn of my lungs. The seconds drew out in shaky silence as the pen of fate struggled to find the words. 

Peter tentatively slid one arm under mine and the other under my legs being mindful of the brace and picked me up like I weighed nothing. The bed creaked as he gently laid me back down. I scooched back, making room for him to sit.

“Do . . . do you remember what happened?”

I cleared my throat nervously, swallowing several times.

He paused a moment and handed me a glass of water from the bedside table. I took a slow sip, considering my response.

“Yeah.”

“Then please, enlighten us,” Stark interjected coldly with a flash of his eyes as he strode into the room, “as to how an abandoned subway station collapsed on top of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))))))))))))))))))
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated and yall can find me on tumblr at @paradoxicalblueberry  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Also I might post RS art on tumblr sooooooooooo if you want to see that . . . . go there.


	12. Scorched Paint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A recount of a sticky situation and a beginning of yet another mystery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeet . . . . . . . well, what are you waiting for?!

Something felt very,  _ very _ wrong. 

It wasn’t the cold in the room.

It wasn’t my unease of being in a place where people I didn’t know knew me.

And it wasn’t my squirming under the scrupulous gaze of the only two people I could at least kind of call my friends.

The moments passed like nails against a chalkboard before I drew in a shaky breath and spoke, breaking the icy silence in the air. 

“I heard a scream from the alley,” I started, staring at my hands as if fidgeted with the pale blue hospital gown. “And it seems like both of your hero complexes are rubbing off on me.” 

* * *

The wind gently untucked the drenched hair from behind my ear and filled the air with the salty-sweet scent of the ocean. Fog sprawled across the ragged green water, stretching up the building with yawns of elegant updrafts that whistled the glass window panes. It spiraled and swirled, simply fading into the wind that swept up the clouds and pulled them from the twinkling stars; a thick velvet curtain unveiling the dancers.

The scream brought me to my feet before my mind snapped back to reality. 

Only bare hints of dawn ripened the east horizon, shining off the ocean with golden rays. Silhouettes of freighters and fishing boats cast broad shadows all while on the opposite horizon, the city that never sleeps awoke from the night.

My brain was sluggish and my body ached from exhaustion. Another scream caught my attention and I was sliding down the fire escape without another thought. 

The alleyways between warehouses were still dark and smelled musty rather than fresh from the rain. The cold humidity clung to my skin, the air crushing down on me. It hung suspended as if it were still deciding whether or not to drown me as I ran towards the muffled grunts and cries. 

Four figures hurried about fifty feet in front of me while I lurked against the rough brick wall, hugging the shadows that subtly engulfed the street.

Two large men held a woman’s arms behind her back while she writhed against the hand clamped over her mouth. The fourth figure walked steadily, an aura of calm evil around her as she held a gun to the captive’s head.

They turned a corner down to the abandoned subway, descending the steps urgently. The one with the gun scanned the area before following.

I ducked behind a dumpster and covered my eyes to keep their glow from escaping. After seconds of straining silence, I heard the stiff footfalls echo into the oblivion. 

Still, a part of me told myself to just leave well enough alone and go back home. Plus, I wasn’t completely convinced that any of this was real. 

_ Isn’t it after three days without sleep, a person will start to hallucinate? Maybe it’s four days. _ I didn’t know.

All I knew was that it’s been seven long nights for me.

The station was a scene of decay. Stone pillars were crumbling. The floor was torn up and jagged. One of the corners of the ceiling was almost totally collapsed in. Everything was covered in what could be a conservative estimate of at least a centimeter of dust. But, there was still life.

Every inch of the walls of the subway station was covered in rainbows of graffiti, all fighting the unmoving battle for space on their concrete canvas. Some were just tags, signatures to make their owner feel that they’ve made their mark somewhere. Others were art. Beautiful. Mind-bending. 

A beyond beautiful woman peeked out from behind a blank white curtain that became a cascading waterfall of color that was swept up in all directions, turning into a flock of birds that soared over other art.

A pair of giant dark-skinned hands covered another wall. They were handcuffed yet still held tight to a paintbrush that appeared to drip pools of color onto the filthy floor. 

The dome ceiling above the heart of the station was completely overtaken by intricate patterns of tile. Simple checkerboarding near the edges, but the further inward you looked, the more vibrant the colors became; the more entangled the patterns were with each other. They wove together and unraveled like the lightning from the night before, all the while not clashing with one another, only complementing their neighbors. It reminded me of the soothing chaos of ripples on a calm lake during a heavy rain.

The beauty of it all was ripped away in a flash of pain. Everything went rigid. I was barely aware as my head smacked on the ground when I fell and spasmed uncontrollably against the electricity that burned through my veins. 

But the agony stopped as soon it started. It receded like the tide and left me breathless and limp. I was helpless as they dragged me to my knees. It felt like gravity was increased ten-fold. My head lolled forward and my knees scraped across the sharp linoleum.

“Thank you, boys,” a woman’s voice reverberated through the hall. It was smooth, intoxicating even, yet still held a subtle ferocity and spark.

One of the men holding me grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked my head up. I gasped at the sting of my scalp.

Two women stood before me. One was tall and slim, with brown skin that showed off her cheekbones, short spiked brown hair with orange highlights. She wore baggy and torn camo pants, and a low cut crop top jacket with orange stripes emblazoned on the sleeves. Her lips were parted in a sly smirk and a tinge of delight sparkled in her eye.

The other woman was older, but not by much. She was shorter and visibly sweating. Her hazel-eyed glance flitted between me and the other woman. Her hands trembled at her sides and her breaths were shallow and quick. She was afraid.

The tall one began to circle the other. She traced a red manicured nail tenderly against the other woman’s shoulder, slowly transitioning to the side of her neck and then along her jawline. The short woman squeezed her eyes shut, a single tear falling down her pink cheeks. A small whimper escaped her.

“You see,” the short haired one said suavely, abruptly grabbing the other’s face and holding it to make sure she didn’t look away. The hazel eyed woman yelped at the movement. “This is what happens to people who look where they shouldn’t look. Who go where they shouldn't go. Who make themselves  _ his _ enemy.” 

A punch came from out of nowhere. I saw stars while the taste of copper filled my mouth. Coughs racked through my body and blood dripped from my lips onto the ground.

Again, my head was jerked upward, only glimpsing the women before another punch struck my cheek. Again and again, the blows kept coming until I was sputtering through blood for air. The majority of my face was coated in blood and bruises turning a dark purple.

“That’s enough,” I heard through the ringing in my ears, though my brain was already elsewhere, fighting to stay awake, fending off the black smudges that danced at the edge of my vision. “Now, I don’t think I need to explain what happens to you if you continue your little  _ investigation _ . Consider this as a warning, my dear Kate.”

I was baffled by her words until staggered high-heeled steps, that I could only assume belonged to the hazel eyed woman, ran towards the exit. They slowly got quieter until once again there was ear-splitting silence.

“Now, what should I do with you,” the short haired woman breathed next to my ear in a sing-song voice. She held me by the collar of my shirt, bringing my face intimately close to hers. Her words were hot against my neck and broiled my skin, making me squirm in pain.

She lifted my face, lightly squishing my cheeks. Her touch was searing hot. I squinted through the distortion in the air, that was not unlike that above a fire. 

She looked deeply into my eyes. Flakes of orange glowed in her irises, pulsing with intensity. She hummed questioningly.

“W-What’s so interesting about my face?” I rasped.

She seemed to snap out of her trance with my words and backed away, a peculiar expression of wonder in her eyes along with a quirk in her eyebrow. 

“Odd,” she muttered, turning her back to me. “He told me you were weak. I just didn’t expect you to be this pathetic, Christine.”

I struggled against the hands that held me down, but they only squeezed harder into my collarbone and shoulder, their fingers digging into my skin. 

Shadows slowly advanced from the far corners of the station. They went from solid shapes to a coiling mess of snarled black vines. My shadow split into similar wandering snakes as black as void that twisted around all of us. The vines crept up my chest and onto my face, finally halting at my cheeks, leaving a sharp contrast with the iridescence of my eyes.

“You think that will be enough scare me, child?” she asked before turning around swiftly. In a matter of moments, her hair was replaced with almost blinding orange fire. The same fire burned from her hands as she stalked closer to me. The flames fought back the darkness, growing higher and moving like they had a mind of their own. 

I concentrated all my willpower on snuffing them out with my darkness but it was too bright. Burns began to form on my skin as I tried harder to extinguish the blaze. 

My ears started ringing violently. 

My head began to pound.

Sweat dripped down my temple and stung a cut on my eyebrow.

A scream left my throat.

My heart skipped a beat.

The heat against my face faltered.

Her expression changed, a flash of worry before it darkened. 

The fire burned hotter.

It felt like my blood was boiling. 

It was agonizing. 

I barely registered the grip on my shoulders loosen and the shaking under my knees. A deafening rumble shifted the ground and walls. Dust fell in streaks from the ceiling. Tiles from the murals began to crumble and shift precariously. A giant crack slithered along the foundation, separating me from the woman. She looked wildly around. Her fire had died down slightly in her distraction.

In a final blast of frigid white light, everything went dark. The heat was gone. I was propelled backward and slammed into a pillar. The shock wave knocked the air from my lungs. I slumped over, limp. The cold stone against my cheek brought tears to my eyes. 

Someone yelled something, but I couldn’t quite make it out. I gathered the strength to pry my eyes open. The thunder of concrete slabs falling all around me was muffled like I was underwater.

The acrid taste of bile filled my mouth.

Distant footsteps got fainter. 

“Leave her!” 

“He told you to kill her!”

“The place is coming down. It  _ will _ kill her.”

The words brought what sense and instinct I had left to take control. I painstakingly crawled up to my hands and knees, pushing past the dizziness and nausea. 

The world around me was no longer filled with color. Cracks split the walls. Fractures spider-webbed through the mural’s face on the wall. Grey dust saturated the air. I felt each impact of debris around me in my chest. 

It was so dark.

_ I couldn’t see the way out.  _

* * *

"So.” I’d finished telling my story. Stark had left. It was nearing late afternoon. “How long was I asleep?”

“We got you out two days ago. I guess you were under all the rubble for about . . . ten hours.”

There was a moment of silence. I thought back to the dark. That dark that I couldn't see through. 

That's what was wrong. I couldn’t feel the shadows at the very corners of the room. I couldn't grasp at the darkness under the bed I sat on. It was like my brain was numb.

“Aren’t you gonna ask?”

“Ask what?”

“Why we didn’t die when the giant thing of concrete was about to fall on us.”

“Oh, I assumed you just caught it somehow,” I said softly. 

“No, I didn’t catch it. How could I have? I was on my stomach more preoccupied about  _ someone _ ,” he chuckled.

“So what  _ did  _ happened?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged. 

“Then why did you bring it up?” I really wasn’t in the mood to play.

“‘Cause it was weird. It was like we teleported. I remember being there with you. The webs snapped and Mr. Stark screamed. But . . . but then I could still hear the scream and the crash, but it was far away instead of above us. When I opened my eyes we were half a block away and you were unconscious.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments. I don't want to *that* author but guys. I'm losing some of my steam. I haven't written in several weeks and at this rate I might need to take a hiatus soon to continue having a buffer. so. if you want RS every week just comment. please. it doesn't have to be much, tho.
> 
> anyway. I hope all you yall had a good tuesday and I hope wednesday, thursday, and friday treat you well <3 <3 <3


	13. Burning Rubber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> escapAY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pfffftt I didn't almost forget to post this chapter because I was already in bed ready to go to sleep what are you talking about????  
> oof sorry this one's a bit jumpy and bad. I didn't have the energy to rewrite the parts that needed it so. whatever. sorry

I barely recognized the girl in the mirror. 

Her eyes were flat silver. They could have even been mistaken for blue. They didn’t glow and hardly even reflected the light. Her face was swollen save for the fading bags under her eyes. Purple and brown bruises covered her right cheek and jaw. Cuts peppered her face like freckles. Her lips were chapped and cracking, the same soft pink color of the wilting bouquet of flowers on the counter.

I tore my gaze away from the reflection to finish the tedious process of changing out of the wretched blue gown and into real clothes, mindful that most any movement could tear my stitches. I gently rubbed the angry red skin where the velcro of the knee brace rubbed, eyeing it on the counter with disdain before leaving the bathroom. I put the earpiece in my ear, slipped the metal bangle onto my wrist, and clipped the hilt of my sword onto my waistband.

_ “She’s irresponsible! She’s always putting herself in danger! She’s lying to us!” _

_ “So what are you saying? We just kick her out?! She needs help.” _

_ “What she  _ needs _ is to let this go! And to be more conscious of her decisions. She could’ve gotten you killed.” _

_ “I can handle myself, Mr. Stark. And if you want to blame someone for all this, blame me. I was the one who wanted to go after . . . him . . . in the first place.” _

_ “I’m not going to blame you, Peter.” _

_ “Then don’t blame her!” _

The arguing continued somewhere outside the med bay. The whispering rose into hisses, still failing to be discreet. 

I stood rock still with my back to the slightly ajar door, eyes closed and choking back the guilt that rose to my throat as I listened to the argument. 

_ “I know you want to catch him but we need to be careful.” _

_ “He killed Ben! Who knows how many others have died. I’m gonna get my⸺” _

_ “Revenge? Peter, you can’t seriously be talking about killing him?” _

_ “Well, maybe he deserves it.” _

_ “But that’s not something for you to decide, Pete.” _

_ “It became my  _ decision _ when he decided that for Ben.” _

_ “I’m not going to be a part of this operation if this is your goal! I’m not going to let you kill a man.” _

_ “You can’t stop me.” _

_ “I can take away the suit.” _

_ “I’ll go out. I did before.” _

_ “I’ll tell May.” _

When I finally couldn’t take it anymore, I shut the door. The loud click made me cringe. I swiftly locked it as silently as I could manage and put the chair from the corner of the room under the doorknob.

The window of the first-floor room didn’t slide open as easily as I’d hoped. It squeaked. I tried to muffle my grunts from trying to open it.

There was a knock at the door.

My heart rate spiked and I looked back at the garish white room from cold lifelessness outside.

“Lorraine?”

I swung one leg over the sill.

“Lorraine?! Are you okay?”

And then the other leg.

“Lorraine!” Peter yelled again. “ _ The door’s jammed, _ ” he said to Stark.

“Kid! What’re you doing in there?!”

“I’m sorry, Peter,” I mumbled to myself before leaping from the window.

I hit the ground running, well . . . limping quickly. I held my right arm tight against my side out of instinct. Not even after fifty seconds, I was winded. 

The building towered over me. The trees loomed threateningly. The horizon was too empty. There were no skyscrapers. The ground was soggy and the cold air hung in my lungs.

“Pix, a little help here!” I seethed through heavy breaths.

“I’ve already sent the bike to your location but it will take a while to get to you,” she stated through my earpiece.

“Wait, where are we?”

“Upstate New York.”

My steps faltered. My heart leapt into my throat. “H-how⸺miles?” I stammered, panic rising from my gut.

“A little less than two hundred. Raine, your heart rate is rising dangerously high, you need to calm down.”

“Little easier said than done, Pix!”

A brief glance behind me told me that several guards were in pursuit.

“New plan.” I took a hairpin turn and made a beeline for the parking lot. “I’d really appreciate a distraction for those guards any time now.”

“On it.”

Five steps later, there was a blast off to my left. Black smoke plumed from somewhere in the building.

“I said a distraction, not a fucking  _ explosion.”  _

“Relax, I just overloaded their heating system. No permanent da⸺”

Hollow gunshots sounded behind me. I felt the air ripple around them as they ripped past.

“Rubber bullets,” Pix stated, almost reading my mind. “They won’t kill you⸺”

“⸺but they’ll hurt like a bitch, I got it.”

I fought through the stinging throb of my side and sprinted forward, ducking behind a brick pillar of a small glass building. The shots continued to ring through the air. I yelped at the window to my left shattering.

I peeked around the pillar and jumped slightly. One of the guards stopped dead in his tracks in front of me. Instinct grabbed the handle of my sword and brought it inches from the man’s neck. A shaky breath dragged out of his mouth in silence, the grey cloud of mist dissipating quickly into the cold air. His fear-filled eyes looked into mine and the world spun around us in utter deafening silence.

My hand trembled.

The blade glinted in the sun as I lowered it. 

He sighed with relief. 

Fire burned up my arm from my hand as my fist made contact with his jaw.

He reeled away, clutching his cheek. I took the opportunity to snatch his glock and hit him across the face with the butt of the gun. He toppled backward, unconscious.

I swore and held my hand tenderly against my chest, praying for the throbbing to reside. 

“Why does not killing people have to hurt so much?” I mumbled as I checked the magazine of the gun to make sure the bullets were in fact rubber. They were, but only seven were left.

I chanced another glimpse behind the pillar and returned fire. 

_ Six. _

_ Five.  _

_ Four. _

Hit! A guard crumpled to the ground.

_ Three. _

_ Two. _

Hit! The other doubled over.

“Lorraine?” 

I swung around and had my sword against Peter’s chest before I could register that it was him.

“Why are you doing this?”

_ “You’ve let it fester,”  _ I remembered.

He stood with his hands up, between me and only vehicle in the small parking lot.

“Move,” I breathed, “or I will move you.”

He didn’t say a word. 

I took tentative steps around him, not breaking the fragile eye contact. My blade still pointed to his chest.

I slid into the truck and immediately fiddled with the compartments for the keys. I exhaled a shaky breath.

The passenger car door opened and closed with a click.

“So, where are we going?” Peter asked from the passenger seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeet. I have a weird question that I want yall's opinion on. If RS was a movie or something, what song would be the end credits song? aLso I kinda want to hear any predictions you've got.


	14. Wilted Bouquets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dangerous driving and some reconciliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yee. Pay attention to this one >:3333

“Why didn’t you call for backup?”

“Is this the time?” I asked through gritted teeth, distractedly glancing between the road ahead and the thick cloud of dust we left behind.

He went quiet for a moment, focusing on the dirt road racing past us. 

I was at the wheel of a beige pickup truck. It was old and rattled with every small pothole and large piece of gravel. 

“You could’ve just texted me! Or, or had Pix call⸺” he blurted.

“I don’t know!” I snapped back, avoiding his gaze.

“You could have died!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!”

“Mr. Stark kept saying that you’re lying to us. I didn’t believe him.”

“And now? Huh? You don’t trust me?! I don’t care. I’ve heard it before. You’re not the first one to get fed up with me.”

“No, Lorraine. That’s not what I’m saying. I⸺”

“If you don’t trust me with telling you the truth then you  _ certainly _ shouldn’t trust me with a car, yeah?”

“What?”

“Get out!” I slammed the breaks and the car skidded to a stop, rocking back violently. “In fact,” I huffed, finally taking up his eye contact, “Why did you even come in the first place?!”

“Because I’m  _ worried _ about you!”

“I thought you didn’t trust me.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.” His eyes softened. I glared at him, my breaths coming quicker as I ground my teeth in anger. He searched my face, his eyes flitting back and forth between mine before finally dropping. 

They widened at the growing red stain on my sweatshirt.

“Lorraine!” 

I straightened my back and turned back to face the steering wheel, trying to hide the pain and guilt on my face. He grabbed my hand roughly and yanked it away from reaching for the gearshift. My mouth gaped in surprise before wrenching my hand back.

“Lorraine,” he said softly.

“WHAT?!” I shouted.

“At least let me drive.”

* * *

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what, child?”

“I’m just sorry.”

Several moments passed between us. The wind tickling my hair. I sat cross-legged on the muddied ground while the rain drizzled on. I fidgeted with the blades of grass, pulling them up and slowly ripping them apart. Not out of destruction but in curiosity. Some pulled their roots with them, some didn’t. Some were more blue than green and others were longer. Most had buds about to burst into tiny white flowers.

I remembered always picking hundreds and tying them together with yet another blade of grass and hiding them all over the house. In my father’s history books on his big desk in his office. In my mom’s jewelry box on her dresser and on top of her cookbooks. In Adrian’s book bag when he was home from California for spring break.

Once, I was going around and replacing all old wilted bouquets with fresh ones when Adrian’s girlfriend was over. I really needed to replace the bundle of flowers on his bookshelf but they were both in his room slouched behind the computer. I was too scared to go in. I remember hiding behind the corner, not really knowing what to do. 

When I was about to give up and leave, she came around the corner. I remember being very confused. It looked like she was crying but she also wore the biggest smile. I was so frantic. I just shoved the flowers into her hands and ran out into the woods. 

When I came back that night, she was gone but I found a note on my bed. The lined piece of paper was folded to look like an envelope and sealed with a glittery cat sticker. Inside, the words, “thanks for the flowers,” were scrawled in messy purple marker and at the bottom, it was signed Isobelle. 

“I’m just sorry that I’m such a failure.” I didn’t look at the dark figure standing in front of me. 

“You know,” He said, bending down and sitting on the soggy ground, still towering over me. “When the universe chooses you, we knew that the biggest weight to bare would be held upon your shoulders.”

“That makes my mistakes even worse, I know, I get it,” I said solemnly.

“No.” I looked up at him finally. My tears blended in with the rain streaking down my face. “It makes your mistakes even more  _ understandable _ .” His noiseless words rumbled through my chest. “When the world sits on one’s conscious, you can’t expect perfection.

“We used to think that humans were just another group of beings. You squabble amongst yourselves like everyone else. But you also find hope amongst yourselves.” He paused, looking thoughtfully up at the sky.

“I don’t know how I’m going to win.”

“You don’t need to know yet. Just remember that you will. It’s written in time. Eventually, you will have a plan.”

“That doesn’t help me much,” I chuckled half-heartedly.

“We understand. There are many things you don’t know, some that you won’t know. The world isn’t meant to be known all at once. It is to be experienced. Adventured. Explored. Mysteries are to be solved when they are meant to.”

* * *

The air smelled stale. There was no movement. No sound. Light streamed in through the skylight above my bed. Dust drifted through the cascade of sunshine, disrupted only by my shallow breaths. 

I sat up hesitantly, lifting the covers up and scooting up to the side of the bed. The metal was cold under my feet. It grounded my thoughts to the present. 

My leg wobbled under my weight as I stood up. I grabbed the railing, catching it before I fell. 

Each step down the stairs took an eternity. 

“Lorraine, you really shouldn’t be walking around.” Peter got up from the couch and rushed towards me.

“Did you change my shirt?” I asked, looking down at the Led Zepplin shirt.

“W-well . . . uhh, I, umm. You see⸺the other one, it was all bloody. I-I didn’t look I swear! I⸺”

“Peter?” I cut in, ending his nonsensical babbling.

“Yeah?”

“Calm down. It’s fine.”

“Okay,” he said timidly. 

“Wait, why are you here?”

“Well, after Pix directed me back through the city, which, let me say, was a hassle, I brought you here and she told me where the first aid kit was.”

“Okay, but why are you  _ still _ here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Oh.” There was a long pause between us. “Thanks.” 

He smiled.

“You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you pay attention?


	15. Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you get when you put together a powerless Raine and a depressive cycle??? 
> 
> >:D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bros I came up with a really good story idea this week and I think that I'm gonna start writing that once I finish RS

The warehouse felt so empty. Nothing had changed but it felt like everything was different. It didn’t feel like home. It was lonely. 

It felt dark.

Flickers of orange licked at the evening twilight streaming in from the skylight. The walls vibrated against the dim light. Snow pattered against the window in the brisk breeze outside. It piled up on the ledges. Drifts fell from the roof, momentarily blocking out the white sunlight that filtered through the cold blanket of clouds.

I sat on the floor. My hair was a mess. It hadn’t been brushed in days. I’d been wearing the same shirt for the past three days. But that didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered. 

The candle in front of me quivered in the icy air. A thick comforter was wrapped around my shoulders. My eyes didn’t waver from the flame. 

I tried to feel the shadows, to imaging the silky feeling of them bending at my fingertips. They were stiff and almost brittle, delicately residing in the corners of the room.

The candle burned lower.

I sat for hours with my eyes closed and only one thing on my mind until the candle was a waning puddle of wax. 

“What the hell? Why is it so cold in here?!” 

A gust of frigid air that settled in through the door brought a whirl of snow into the kitchen. A shiver ran up my back. When I opened my eyes the candle had gone out.

“God-fucking⸺ Peter!” I snapped, getting up faster than my still healing wound wanted, dropping the blanket from my shoulders, and storming past Peter, who was wrapped up in several coats. I rifled through the drawers in the kitchen loudly and returned to the candle. I clicked the lighter angrily over and over again but no flame was produced.

“Lorraine, what⸺”

“Shut the goddamn door!” I ordered.

“Did the power go out or something?” 

“Just shut the FUCKING DOOR!”

The metal door rattled shut and the bellowing of the wind muffled. The layer of thin silence was broken by the clicking of the lighter. 

“Did something happen?”

I ignored him.

“Are you okay?”

The lighter continued to click.

“Lorraine!”

“GODDAMMIT!” I screamed, throwing the lighter across the room. The plastic shattered against the wall. Peter took a step away. I pushed myself away from the candle and tucked my knees under my chin. 

A gust of wind whistled outside.

“Lorraine?” Peter asked gingerly.

“Yeah?” I responded in a small whisper.

“What can I do?”

I didn’t answer, but my gaze finally lifted from the melted wax on the cement ground to his brown eyes.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by in a while. School has been rough, exams and all,” he began rambling. I found solace in his voice. I watched him set a bundle of plastic bags on the counter and take off his sodden winter coats and boots. He turned on the lights and a warm glow of  _ home _ returned to the cold warehouse. “The roads are shit out there. They can’t plow the snow fast enough and there’s  _ tons _ of black ice, just everywhere.” He chuckled to himself. “It took me almost an hour to walk here. It was snowing so bad that I could barely see five feet ahead of me. That’s part of why I didn’t want to just swing. I’ve smacked into a building before, trust me, it was like in the cartoons, except for, ya know, hurting more.”

I stifled a small laugh.

“I kinda figured that you’d be snowed in. They don’t really plow down here by the wharfs,” he continued while he unpacked the contents of the plastic bags. “I stopped by Delmar’s on the way. Thought you might want a sandwich, though . . .” he paused, staring down at the paper-wrapped sub. “I think I may have forgotten yours. Damn.”

I smiled.

“It’s probably still there on the street. Shoot!” He looked at me with sorry eyes. “I had to quickly drop everything and get this little girl and her mother out of the way of a car.”

“It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Peter, it’s fine.”

“If it makes you feel any better, snow must have gotten in the bag with my sandwich because it’s all soggy now,” he laughed.

“Uhh, I think there’s some uncooked spaghetti in the cupboard,” I said.

“Okay, but seriously,” he said while reaching up to the high cabinet for the box of pasta, “did your heater break?”

“Probably.”

“What do you mean probably?”

“‘Haven’t checked.”

“What do you mean, you haven't checked? Why not.”

“Busy,” I murmured, ashamed.

“Busy? Right.” His tone grew sharp. “Busy with your candle. When was the last time you ate, then, huh? Yesterday? The day before? Last week?! When was the last time you slept?”

Pregnant silence filled the room.

“Lorraine,” he sighed, turning around and walking over to sit down in front of me. “I know it’s been hard⸺”

“I almost had it this time, Peter,” I pleaded. “I almost put it out. Just let me try again. I could  _ feel _ it this time.”

“You said that last time. This isn’t  _ healthy _ . You need to take care of yourself, Lorraine.”

“But I almost got it back,” I repeated in a whisper.

“When was the last time you took a shower? Changed your clothes? Gone outside? Done anything besides sit in front of that candle?” He scooted closer to me and set his arms on my shoulders. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

“I don’t know.” 

I looked down at my hands, fidgeting with the wax pooled on the floor.

“Okay, first thing’s first. Go take a shower. It’ll warm you up. I’ll take a look at the heater and see if I can find what’s wrong.”

* * *

“What was the other part?” I asked.

“What?

“You said that part of the reason you didn’t just  _ swing _ by was because of the snow,” I elaborated.

“Oh,” Peter looked up at me from his bowl of spaghetti, “I suppose that’s all of my reasoning. I’ve always kinda liked walking in the snow though. It makes things seem simpler. That probably doesn’t make much sense.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” I laughed. 

“It’s like . . . when you’re walking through thick snow, there’s less to worry about. You know you’re cold. You know your hood will blow down in you let go of it. You know which way the wind is blowing, and you know that no matter where you’re headed, you’ll find yourself somewhere eventually.”

A moment of silence passed between us. I looked down past my fork at the scars in the wooden table made in my fit of rage that felt like so long ago.

“Hey, I have an idea.” Peter’s words brought me out of the memory that was replaying in my head. 

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“What if you come on patrol with me?”

“Oh, uhhh . . .” I looked over my shoulder at the candle. “I wouldn’t be very helpful,” I said after a moment.

“Despite what you think, you’re still pretty scary just with that sword.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want predictions and thoughts on me making some art for RS (t'would be put on my tumblr, @paradoxicalblueberry, should it ever get made) and what specifically I should draw.
> 
> Have a good rest of your week!


	16. Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> inconveniance store robbery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woot I need to start writing again my writer's block is getting out of control yikes happy reading tho I'll just be over here dying no biggy :)
> 
> also
> 
> TW: SLIGHTLY GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF DEATH
> 
> also
> 
> I so sorry bros that this chapter is so bad. I'm editing it late and am too tired to rewrite stuff. all I can do is try to find typos at this point

My breath wavered. 

I looked over at Peter, suited up, standing to my left with his arm up as if he could catch the bullet that had yet to be fired. 

“Come on, man. You’re just making this harder than it needs to be,” he said nervously, his shoulders dropping in disappointment.

The man standing in front of us wore a black windbreaker and a wooden mask that resembled a deer skull. His bright eyes flitted about the convenience store through the holes carved from the polished wood. 

He looked at me and then to Peter and then back to me. 

I glanced at him and back down the barrel of his pistol.

My sword, outstretched and pointed towards the robber, reflected the garish fluorescent lights from the ceiling. My breath was hot against the back bandana tied over my nose and mouth. Strands of my hair stuck to my forehead and beads of sweat rolled down my temple. 

“Hey man, just put the gun down and we can talk this out.”

“Y-you don’t understand.”

I looked between the man and Peter and back to the trembling gun. The man held it like it was his only grip on reality, like it was the only tie he had to the world. 

His eyes were scared. 

Innocent.

I lowered my sword, knowing exactly the fear this man felt. Knowing that he doesn’t want to be here in this moment, thinking he was about to die. I knew that he wasn’t evil. 

“Lorraine . . . ?” Peter whispered quickly. “What’re you doing?”

I took a step forward.

The man waved the gun frantically at me. 

“I said stay back!” he yelled, but there was a quiver in his voice.

There was the clatter of metal as the grip of the blade slipped from my grasp.

“Lorraine what’re you doing?!” Peter repeated.

“Stay back!”

Sirens wailed in the distance.

“Raine?” Pix asked through my earpiece.

I slowly reached out my hand. The metal of the gun was cold under my touch. I could feel the tremor in the man’s hand.

I looked into his eyes. They looked so desperate. I’m sure mine were similar.

I took a breath and held it.

He took a few steps backward.

I continued towards him and slowly lowered the gun to point down at the linoleum floor.

“Raine.”

The sirens got louder.

He loosened his grip on the gun.

I tenderly reached for his mask.

He flinched.

There was movement behind me. 

A chaos of blue and red lights shone in through the window.

He reclaimed his grasp on the gun and jerked it out of my hand, shoving me to the ground in the process.

I hit the floor with a smack.

“PUT THE GUN DOWN!” I heard a policeman yell from my right.

He didn’t. I could tell it was panic that held him petrified.

The cops lifted their guns.

“PUT THE GUN DOWN!” 

I could hear the man’s breath. It was fast. Shallow. The breath of a dying man.

_ Click _ .

“GET DOWN!” I screamed.

All of the lights buried in the ceiling shattered all at once. 

Glass rained down on us.

The red and blue lights outside blinked out. The harsh headlights of taxis and the warm glow of apartment buildings and hotel lobbies all went dark.

I jumped forward, hurtling at the man. Our bodies collided and it brought him to the ground just as a spray of bullets erupted above our heads. 

I curled up in a ball, hands over my ears. The gunshots’ thunder reverberated through my heart and lungs but stopped as fast as they had started. 

I opened my eyes to pitch black. 

But I saw everything.

Suddenly, I found myself back on my feet, sword in hand. It retracted and I clipped it to my belt. 

There were distant hollars of confusion, though mostly drowned out by the ringing in my ears. 

Without thinking, I grabbed the man’s hand and hauled him up to his feet. 

“Follow me,” I whispered.

He didn’t protest.

I began to run. He did too. His hand was sweaty in mine.

The cops looked about the store, panic plastered to their faces. They didn’t see us. 

A few stray gunshots went off towards the sounds of our footsteps.

* * *

“Why, Lorraine?” 

I kept my head forward, not even acknowledging Peter’s silhouette against the navy sky. 

The stars were out tonight. Ever since winter set in, starlight was scarce. Moonlight even more so. Grey clouds were the usual mask to the sky, almost never being unveiled from over the universe’s wondrous expanse. The stars twinkled against the void. They blinked and smiled, giggling like children. They winked to each other. They told their silent stories of their millenniums of lonely darkness.

I was lying on my back. The skyscrapers dotted my peripheral vision, but they were so very far away. The water kept them from advancing. I silently cursed the city's light, wishing I could see all the stars there were. 

I closed my eyes and imagined being in space. I wanted to know what was out there.

The dark of space was the only dark I was never able to see through. 

I felt a nudge against my shoulder. 

“Lorraine please look at me.” I refused. “Why’d you help him escape? He was a thief. He was a criminal.”

“He was scared,” I said softly, not wanting to disturb the stars above.

A moment passed us by just as a brisk breeze brushed against my hair and brought goosebumps to my skin.

I listened to the waves of the river. They lapped at the stone pillars of the bridge that dove deep into the ground. The river hadn’t frozen yet. I doubted it would at all.

I heard Peter sit down next to me. The snow crunched and dipped under him.

“Once upon a time you called me a thief and a criminal, too," I said.

“Yeah but this guy had a gun, people could’ve gotten really hurt.”

“And a sword is so different?” I asked calmly, my eyes still shut.

The wind whistled around the flagpole to my left. The flags flapped and whipped with every breath the sky took. It reminded me of the trees. The trees in that old birch forest. A gust of warm summer air would turn up the silver leaves and sing through the branches. The leaves would rustle against each other and the twigs would rattle and fall to litter the ground with sticks to play with. 

“But you wouldn’t hurt anyone, though.”

“How can you be so certain. I’ve hurt people before.”

“Yeah, but . . . you haven’t killed people, _innocent people,_ before.”

I clenched my jaw at the images that ran through my brain, flinching at the blood. I could still hear the sounds exactly as they were. 

Everyone has some bit of innocence left when their life runs out.

People think death is quiet. On television, there’s usually sorrowful music that swells when a character takes their last breath. 

It’s not as easy as that.

Their breath . . . the weezing, gasping for air. They splutter through thick red blood and saliva for the precious oxygen that won’t save them. They groan and grunt. 

And they never have enough air to scream.

They cry.

They don’t sit still. They writhe against the pain, try to escape it, when it only makes it worse. They grab onto anything they can. They lose their sanity and composure. They try to find it again with a hand or a pant leg, a shoe when you’re walking away. Dirt and sand when they’ve lost everything else.

They last. 

They continue to live. They experience the worst moments of their lives, but they aren’t just mere moments. Minutes. Hours. However long it takes to lose enough blood for the heart to give up. However long it takes for the lungs to collapse and hypoxemia to start.

“L-Lorraine?”

“Peter, I’m not meant to fight crime," I states frankly. "I’m a part of the problem.”

“When we first met, you had the chance to kill me and you didn’t. You said you weren’t a murderer.

“I didn’t kill you because you had done nothing to warrant it and you were⸺ _are⸺_ just a kid. I didn’t say I wasn’t a murderer. I said that I didn’t want to be one. I’m a thief. I’m a tech dealer. I have⸺” I stopped, my eyes fluttering open. 

Peter didn’t notice.

“Killed only _bad_ people, right?”

“Shhh.”

“Don’t shush me.”

“Peter, hold on.”

I grabbed his arm lightly and sat up. I felt him recoil slightly from my touch. 

“What?”

“I have connections,” I whispered to myself.

“What?” he looked at me quizzically.

“I have  _ connections! _ Shit, why didn’t I think of this before!” I stood up swiftly, looking around at where I was. 

A gentle snow began to fall.

“Peter, don’t you know what this means?!” I asked excitedly, pulling him onto his feet as well.

“No?” 

_ “I have a way in.”  _ I jostled his shoulders in joy.

“In . . . where?”

“Remember what Davis said? Adrian ‘has people who have people who have people.’ He’s the leader of a mob, right.  _ I have connections with the mafia. _ ”

“I still don’t get it. The two are totally different.”

“Organized crime is a lot like lions in the wild. You gotta defend your territory. But most of the time, people don’t really want to shed blood in a gang war so they pay each other off.”

I looked off at the water of the east river again. This time, though, I knew what I was searching for. I shuffled around in a circle before his starlight eyes caught mine.

Wren. 

He stood on the far pillar of the bridge in darkness, but his eyes cut through it easily. They twinkled in a way that I  _ knew _ he was smiling at me.

We had a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heheheheheheheheheheheh
> 
> plan >:D


	17. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kinda fluffy, kinda angsty, y'know the drill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo all. Guess what I did over my little hiatus. absolute jack shit! I didn't do any of the writing I was supposed to do :)))))))))))))))) so yay. the whole point of it was write to keep my buffer between the 'chapters done' and 'chapters posted' at around 10-13 and I'm at 9. so. yeah the situation isn't dire I guess. whatever. enjoy the chapter I like this one a lot because its kinda random and fun.

“Lorraine, slow down!”

My mind was racing. My gaze darted around from the city to the water and the snow that swirled around us carried by a bitter breeze. 

We had a plan. 

. . . Sort of.

“I need to get back to the warehouse,” I said finally focusing on Peter. My words came out rushed. 

“Uhhh yeah, okay . . .” he responded slowly.

I started fidgeting with my hands and pacing back and forth on the towering bridge support. I could tell Peter was watching me, waiting for me to explain more.

“So, I call Mondello, I ask to meet, we⸺no, I’ll have to go alone. He won’t let anyone else. His security will be sweeping the place anyway,” I mumbled. “So we meet⸺probably at the boatyard again. I ask if he’ll still hire me, he says yes, we’re in business, and then⸺”

“And what if he says no?” Peter interjected.

I stopped and looked back at him. 

“Then . . . then I’ll, I’ll . . . we’ll,” I stammered. “He won’t.”

“But what if he does?”

“Then I’ll figure something else out,” I huffed.

“And what if he knows something’s up? He’ll kill you.”

“No, he won’t. He’s a slug. I’ll be fine,” I assured him.

“You said he had security. How much?”

“Not enough,” I smirked.

Peter looked down at the ground, at the pacing footprints in the snow.

“Peter, this is our only shot. We’ve gotta take it while we can.”

“It’s still too dangerous.”

“It’s _really_ not.” I chuckled, walking past him toward the ladder down to the highway, but his warm hand caught my wrist. 

I stopped and looked up at him. 

“I promise not to make any big decisions yet, okay?” I said.

He nodded cautiously after a moment. I rolled my eyes, turning my attention down to the traffic below.

“Race ya!” I heard him shout just as he ran and jumped from the ledge. I watched as his silhouette swung toward the bright lights of the city 

“NO FAIR!” I yelled.

* * *

“Why the fuck are you here?!” I blurted immediately after opening the door to the warehouse. 

“I told him . . . to meet us . . . here,” Peter said in between heavy breaths. “Damn . . . your motorcycle is fast,” he mumbled.

“I don’t recall ever giving you a _key,_ Stark,” I spat as I walked in and took off my helmet, not even looking at him leaning on the corner of the couch.

“Why were you on top of the Brooklyn bridge?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Why were you on top of the Brooklyn bridge?” he asked again but this time, directed towards Peter.

“I-I-I,” Peter stuttered, shrugging with a wave of his arms.

I squinted at him in disapproval with a little shake of my head.

“It doesn’t matter.” He rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Why did you let that robber go?” Stark was back to glaring at me.

_“Dude!”_ I exclaimed before slapping Peter lightly upside the head. _“You told him?”_

“I-I-I,” Peter stuttered again, shrugging with a wave of his arms. Again.

“He threatened people. He threatened _you guys_. He had⸺HAS a gun and is still running around Manhattan and you two didn’t bring him in. He’s probably out there robbing some other place!” 

“Are you done there, _Dad?_ We’ve got more important things to discuss.” I said. “And for your information, he’s not robbing another place and he’s not going to swing his gun in any more people’s faces.”

“How can you know that, huh?” 

“Jesus _Christ!_ Because I _talked_ to him,” I shouted. “You know, like a civil human being. He’s a woodworker. He owns a little clock shop in Hell’s Kitchen. He told me he got in too deep with some loan sharks and they were gonna take his daughter and sell her into prostitution if he didn’t get the money by tomorrow. The gun wasn’t even loaded. But, guess what! I _do_ have a little bit of common sense so just for safe measure, I destroyed the gun and threw it in a storm drain. But you’re right, I really shouldn’t have gone and saved a fourteen-year-old girl and her father’s life.”

“Y-you never told me that,” Peter said quietly.

“Yeah because I didn’t want to crush that little spark of hope that you have that maybe the world isn’t as complicated as it really is and people who do bad things are just generally evil for no reason. 

“It’s the same reason why I don’t want you to know about what I’ve done in my life. Because I don’t want you to lose that shred of hope you have in me that _I’m_ not evil. Because I don’t want you to see me as a murderer. 

“It’s the same reason why I don’t want _you_ to kill my brother because it. Will. _Break._ You _.”_ I paused. “I might as well be the one to do it because I’m already broken. Now,” I sighed, “can we discuss the important thing or not?”

* * *

The dial tone only rung for a moment before a tired voice answered.

“Hello?” A man’s voice crackled through the old flip phone's speaker.

“I need to speak with Luciano, please.”

“Lady, I don’t know who you think you are but it’s four-thirty in the morning,” he groaned.

“I’m very sorry but it’s important. Can you tell him that it’s Lorraine.”

“One minute,” he lazily.

I heard scattered bits of conversation after that.

_“Go wake him up, it’s Lancaster.”_

_“I ain’t wakin’ him up. He’ll gut me like a fish.”_

_“I did it last time.”_

_“Shhh.”_

_“Dude you owe me a favor. You promised.”_

_“Pleeeaaaase?”_

_“No! Now grow a pair and go in there.”_

_“Tristan please?”_

“I’m sorry, miss. It will only be one more minute,” the first man said to me.

“No worries. Take your time, boys,” I responded with a smile.

“Thank you.”

“But may I suggest you two flip a coin?”

_“Mateo! Do you have a quarter?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Give it here.”_

_“No. I’m not falling for this again.”_

_“Dude, I promise to give it back this time.”_

_“No, you won’t.”_

_“Yes, I will.”_

_“. . . fine.”_

Ting.

_“Call it.”_

_“Heads.”_

There was a dead silent pause between them.

_“God fucking fuck! I hate you Tristan!”_

_“Here, take the phone.”_

_“Best two out of three?”_

_“No! Just take the fucking phone.”_

“I lost,” Mateo said somberly.

“I’m sorry,” I replied, trying not to laugh.

There was some shuffling in the background and the click of a door and some whispering.

“Here’s Mr. Mondello for you, miss.”

“Thank you, Mateo,” I chuckled.

“Lorraine?”

“Hello, Luci.”

“Call to reconsider my offer?”

“Actually, yes, that is, if it’s still on the table.”

“Maybe.”

“Fantastic! A ‘maybe’ is enough.”

“Let’s meet. Tomorrow. There’s this quaint little restaurant on 36th and 10th. Noon?”

“Sounds good.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

I hung up.

“God I hate that man,” I said to Peter who was spinning slowly in a swiveling bar stool. “Wait. what’s in the bag?” I asked Stark, finally noticing the brown paper bag on the counter.

“Heh, that reminds me of the paper bag you gave my suit back to me in, Mr. Stark.”

“Are you high?” I asked him, mostly as a joke.

“Nah, just tired.”

I raised an eyebrow and turned to Stark.

“What did you do.” I squinted at him.

“Probably something future me will regret,” he said and pushed it towards me. “Go ahead.”

I hesitated, not taking my eyes off of him and pulled out a pair of navy colored, polished metal forearm vambraces with silver trim.

“Whoa! Those look so cool, Mr. Stark!” Peter jumped up excitedly. “What are they?”

“I mean . . . I guess I appreciate the sentiment but I’m not really one for jewelry?”

“Just put them on,” Stark said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I slipped them on and was about to say that they were too big but they suddenly tightened automatically and were comfortably snug. 

_“It’s like Frodo and the Ring!”_ Peter whispered loudly.

“Are you sure you’re not high?”

He ignored me and continued to ogle at the vambraces.

“Okay, so what? They’re a very bold fashion statement?”

“Try clicking the wrists together two times,” He suggested innocently.

“I don’t trust your smirk but okay.”

So I did.

Immediately, a hidden design on the metal lit up and a wave of little churning _things_ started to stretch out from my elbow. The edge of the wave shimmered silver as it quickly engulfed my whole body.

“Shi⸺” I was cut off by a wall of cold metal in front of my face.

I staggered backward and my footsteps clanked. My arms flailed as I tried to find my balance. 

A blinding blue light flickered on. I recoiled and bumped into the corner of the fridge. But then the blue light cleared and I could see the room again. I turned and looked at the two grinning morons sitting at the table.

“STARK I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU PUT ME IN ONE OF YOUR STUPID IRON MAN SUITS I’M GOING TO STAB YOU IN THE EYE!”

“LORRAINEYOULOOKSOAWESOMEOHMYGOD!” Peter screeched.

“Relax. Go look in a mirror,” Stark said plainly.

I waddled carefully around the table and to the mirror on the back of a closet door.

“Fuck,” I whispered to myself.

It _certainly_ wasn’t an iron man suit. 

There were metal boots that ran up, hinged at the knees with more glowing designs on the plates of metal that served as knee guards, and tapered at my thighs, rising even higher on my hips until it ended at a sharp point of gleaming silver trim. 

A silver belt was wrapped around my waist in a V, and with it, armored cloths hung in a skirt like fashion, ending symmetrically just above my knees. 

Further up were a series of small metal plates over my stomach that would overlap and shift against each other as I breathed. 

A flexible metal band draped over my collar bone and my upper back and held a pair of shoulder plates on each side, the smaller of which glowed with the designs. The vambraces had extended up to my upper arms, hinging at the elbows, and down into a fingerless, palmless gauntlets that still wove between the base of my fingers and the backs of my hands.

And finally, the chestplate, donned with a black raven whose wings sprawled across the metal, shimmered in the moonlight’s graces with the most intricate of the glowing designs. 

I had a soft, full-body undersuit that stopped at my neck, under the chin of the helmet that had several overlapping metal plates and slits for the eyes.

The whole armor held the color scheme of navy, mid-grey, and sharp silver, with hints of glowing blue and weighed only slightly more than a normal outfit.

From the inside, the HUD was analyzing everything in view, including some of the “stolen objects” on my shelves.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait! We can _not_ proceed without a superhero name.” Peter slid next to me, pulling me out of my daze. I looked at him through the mirror on the door. I was now quite a bit taller than him, more so that usual.

“I told you, I’m not a super⸺”

“KNIGHTMARE!”

“What?”

“Knightmare. Like _nightmare_ but with a K. You wanna know why? Three reasons. First, you look fucken’ scary as shit. Two, it was one of the first things you ever said to me. And three . . . _it’s a pun!_ ”

“I think that’s a great superhero name,” Pix said enthusiastically. I jumped. Peter put his arm around mine.

“Pix?”

“Yeah, she helped with designing it,” Stark said as he walked up behind us.

The helmet melted from my face, the nanites merging back into the rest of the suit. I looked up at him.

“You’ve been pirating my AI?”

He didn’t answer but looked closely at himself in the mirror and adjusted his tie before setting his arms on both mine and Peter’s shoulders. 

I looked back at the mirror and saw all of us . . . together, and suddenly a feeling began to well up inside me. A feeling that I hadn’t felt in so long that I’d forgotten how it made my breath shaky and my chin quiver and my heart lurch and yet, the feeling made everything feel more natural.

“Knightmare it is, then,” I said finally.

“Merry Christmas, Lorraine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave comments. the recent low responded to chapters are kinda the root of my writer's block rn sooooooooo. and yes I know the whole spiel with the "you should write for you, not for the comments" well guess what I'm not good at separating the only validation I have with my writing and my motivation to do that writing.
> 
> also if you want to know what vambraces look like, google has pictures,


	18. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter expresses concern. Raine does not. Tony is a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhhh I don't have anything super pertinent to tell yall. enjoy the chapter I guess? It's kinda funny (I hope)

“Are you sure about this?” Peter asked.

“Yes! Now stop worrying, Jesus.”

“You can back out if you don’t want to go.”

“I don’t think you know how meeting with a mafia boss works, Peter,” I said, quirking an eyebrow.

“I’m just trying to be helpful.  _ Sorry _ .” He rolled his eyes and walked back to the table. 

The late morning sunlight streamed in through the skylight. The snow sparkled like crushed diamonds that blanketed the city. It didn’t stop the cars that could be heard honking in traffic on the streets a couple blocks away. 

Peter had spent the night and slept on the couch. Stark dropped by at about eight o’clock with a bag of doughnuts that were  _ miraculously _ gone before I got dressed. 

“You break it, I break you, Stark!” I hollered into the other room without looking up from the stove. The clinking of a chain from him spinning a mace around stopped.

“I’m just trying to kill time,” he yelled back defensively.

“You were the one who decided to stop by at eight in the morning!”

There was a moment of quiet. I scooped the scrambled eggs into a bowl and set it down next to the coffee saving my seat next to Peter at the table.

“That smells really good,” he said.

I stared at him.

“You ate twelve doughnuts and a whole box of poptarts,” I replied incredulously. “ _This morning.”_

“Last night was a long night and those doughnuts were mini doughnuts and . . . spider metabolism?” he whispered sheepishly.

“So what’s up with the whole medieval theme?” Stark asked while unsheathing a three hundred-year-old claymore.

I closed my eyes and counted to five in my head, while pushing the eggs to the side. 

I got up and kicked the chair in, hearing a small  _ yes! _ from Peter and rushed clinking of a fork against the bowl.

“Do you have a problem?” I demanded, snatching the sword from Stark’s hands.

“No, that’s just how he is,” Peter answered with his mouth full from the kitchen.

“He’s right,” Stark added smugly.

“I don’t care! Stop messing around with my stuff.”

“Okay, okay. Calm down, kid,” he said, hands up in surrender. I guided him back into the living room where he flopped down in a chair. “You never answered my question.”

“Yep,” I responded coldly. 

“Do you have  _ any _ social skills?”

“Do you have any  _ manners? _ ” I countered. “If you guys are gonna stay here while I’m out,” I sighed and weighed my next words, “Peter’s in charge.”

“Huh?” Peter turned around, holding an empty bowl.

“Don’t let the  _ manchild _ touch my stuff. That means my tech, my swords, my food, whatever. Also, I’m cutting you off,” I added, taking the bowl and setting it in the sink, muttering something about never wanting to be a mother.

I grabbed my phone and jacket, and put in my earpiece. 

“Yo, Pix?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you connect me to my laptop for comms?”

“Sure. And I’ll play babysitter for you.”

“Ahh! An even better plan. Scratch what I said earlier. I’m dethroning you, Peter. Pix is in charge.”

“Wait you’re leaving already?” Peter asked, standing up.

“Thought I might as well check the place out, right?” 

“Won’t you need these?” He held out the vambraces.

“They kinda scream  _ ‘hey I’m gonna fight you’ _ don’t you think?”

“Yeah but . . . what if you have to fight him?”

“Peter? Relax. I will be fine, I promise,” I reassured him, placing my hands on his shoulders.

“He’s right. You should bring the suit,” Stark interjected.

I rolled my eyes and swiped the guards and slipped them under my coat sleeves.

_ “Happy?” _

* * *

The restaurant was just as described: quaint. It felt like the classic ‘mom and pop’ type of establishment all while being elegant and calm. It wasn’t the hustle and bustle of a sub shop at rush hour and it wasn’t so over the top that you would feel the need to wear a dress or button-up shirt. 

I felt bad for the staff.

I could see why Mondello liked the place, and could reasonably guess he came here a lot. 

He was a very simple man to figure out.

He probably had a rough upbringing so he is always patient with waiters and servers. 

He values quality more than anything.

He likes to flaunt his power and wealth but not so much as to paint a target between his eyes. 

However, to put it simply, he’s a coward.

I whisper-yelled at the chattering toddlers on the other end of the comm to shut the hell up, just before the hostess led me to the second floor of the restaurant.

They continued to talk, though, just quieter.

It was a completely different atmosphere on the second floor. Absolutely devoid of people except for two guys waiting just outside the elevator. Timid classical music played through speakers and the traffic outside could barely be heard.

The men asked for my weapons.

I stared them down as I handed them my sword and knives, though still keeping the small stiletto knife strapped to my calf under my jeans.

“You got a lot a’ knives, Ma’am.”

I raised my eyebrow and smiled to myself, recognizing the man’s voice and reached into my pocket.

“Keep ‘em safe, Mateo,” I smirked, flipping the six-foot-tall man a quarter before turning on my heel and sauntering up to Mondello sitting at a white-clothed table by the window. I didn’t stop at the confused silence behind me.

“Ahh, Lorraine.” He stood up and greeted me. I suppressed the urge to recoil against his hand on the small of my back as he guided me to the table.

_ “Remember, Lorraine,”  _ Stark said through my earpiece,  _ “Make this quick. the longer you’re there, the more likely he’ll call your bluff.”  _

I slid into the wooden chair and looked intently at him as he sat back down as well.

“So, what made you change your mind about the job, eh?”

“Decided I was bored with what I got,” I answered casually.

Peter mumbled something to Stark.

“Er . . . Lorraine, you know how seriously I take my security,” he whispered and tapped his ear and nodded to mine.

I glared at him for several seconds before taking out the earpiece. 

It immediately began to fizzle and spark after I dropped it into my glass of ice water. I looked back at Mondello with a fake grin as my heart rate rose slightly.

“Now, shall we begin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> c o m m e n t s ?


	19. Do What You Have to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an early past comes and throws a wrench into things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is legit one of my favorite chapters. I'm lowkey so proud of it! Have fun reading!

“Let’s call this a trial run,” he said with a vile grin. “An audition, if you will.”

The black town car we were in stopped. Mondello and I were sitting in the back.

I turned to look him in the eye. 

“Now, I know there are stories and rumors. Let’s see if you can live up to them,” he continued. “There’s a man in there, and, well, he owes one of my  _ business _ partners a lot of money.”

“I see you think highly of my skills,” I deadpanned looking out the window at the small shop the car was parked in front of. “You want me to go fetch it like a dog, huh?”

“Now, you’ve got it all wrong. I _know_ he hasn’t got the money. What I need you to do, is show me that you can go and get your hands dirty without question and without mercy.”

I gritted my teeth.

“Remember what I said about stealing from little Joe’s market? Same goes for killing. I won’t kill this man, Luci.”

“Oh, but I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to take his daughter. Do whatever you need to and get it done,” he said dismissively.

“You’re sick,” I hissed, reaching for the car door.

“And you wanted this job,” he replied forcefully. My hand faltered and my eyes slid shut in disgust.

This was my⸺ _ our _ ⸺only way in. 

“Unlock the door, Luci,” I whispered in defeat.

The lock clicked. I opened the door and stood up out of the car. My heart rate began to rise.

“I’m sorry this couldn’t work ou⸺”

“I’ll get it done,” I interrupted, avoiding eye contact. I looked both ways into the oncoming pedestrian traffic of the sidewalk.

“Well then, we’ll be right here.”

I tore off my jacket revealing the vambraces. They shimmered in the sunlight. I chucked the leather jacket back into the car and slammed the door. 

I clicked my wrists together and made a bee-line to the shop. The nanites had engulfed my body before I even got through the door. 

The HUD flickered on just as all the lights in the shop went out.

_ “⸺een too long! She’s in trouble. We have to go and save her!” _

_ “I’m sure she’s fine. All he⸺” _

“Would you two stop bickering for one moment?! I’m right here but I need your help!”

_ “Are you okay?!”  _ Peter asked nervously.

“How fast can you get here?”

_ “Where?” _

“Tanner’s Clock Shop, Hell’s Kitchen,” Pix interjected.

_ “Like the⸺” _

“Yes, now get here fast!”

Broken silence flooded the room, leaving only the incessant ticking of hundreds of clocks and a frightened gasp.

“W-who are you?!” the man behind the counter asked with a shaky voice.

“Shush, I don’t have that much time,” I said quickly. “Where’s your daughter?”

“I’m not letting you scum have her. You can kill me if you want but if you think I’m just going to hand her over⸺”

“Stop being dramatic. I’m trying to save both of your asses. Where is she?”

He didn’t answer. 

I slid over the counter and put my hands on his shoulders. My helmet melted away and little lights lit up my face. I brush my hair out of the way and looked him in the eye and saw that same fear in his eyes that I saw when we were in that convenience store, just last night. 

“There’s a man sitting in a car just out there,” I pointed towards the still dark windows, “waiting for me to bring your little girl to him. I’m giving you both a chance to escape, your  _ only  _ chance to escape. Now, where. Is. Your. Daughter?”

“S-she's upstairs.”

“Is there a back exit? A fire escape? Anything?”

“Y-yeah, on the roof.”

“Okay, go. Go get your daughter and I’ll meet you on the roof.” 

He turned to run into the back room.

“Wait!” I yelled. “Take this.” I held out a dagger from my belt. He looked at it and back to me. “Take it!” I urged. He shook his head apprehensively. “We don’t have time for this,” I muttered glancing back at the window and the car. I grabbed his wrist and shoved the handle of the knife into his hand. He looked at me wide-eyed. 

“GO!” I shouted.

He did.

I scanned the shop. There was a ring of keys on a shelf. I grabbed it and ran to the door. They jingled as I fiddled with them, trying to find the right one to lock the door. 

“Stark!” 

The lock clicked _. _

_ “Yeah?” _

“I need you to find the earliest flight out of New York and book two tickets. I’ll pay you back when I get the chance.”

_ “Where to?” _

Three clocks shattered on the ground. I kicked the glass of a display case and slammed a fourth clock into the wall. 

“Anywhere. Just away.”

I smashed the top glass of the counter with my sword and made my way to the back room.

“Peter!”

_ “I’m almost there!”  _ he said.

I left knocked over chairs and brooms and glass in my wake as I sprinted up the stairs, taking them three steps at a time.

“Meet us on the roof!”

The front door rattled violently.

All the rooms on the second floor were calm. Serine and homey until I trashed my way through, a hollow attempt to make it look like there was a struggle.

_ “Okay, I’m here what do you need?” _ Peter asked.

“Get them away from here,” I ordered, shielding my eyes from the bright noon sun as I rushed out from the stairwell onto the roof. 

The man held his daughter tight. Peter stood behind them in his suit. They all looked at me. 

“GO! Hide them! Just get them out of sight!” I yelled, running to the back edge of the building. There was a rusted fire escape that led down into a dark alleyway. 

“Stark, how fast can you get the cops here?”

_ “They’re on their way.”  _

“Okay. new plan. You two,” I walked up to the man and the girl, “go down the fire escape and hide in one of the shops on the next street over. When you hear the sirens get close, it’ll be safe to come out. Tell the police you were attacked by a person with a sword and Spider-Man saved you. Got it? If they ask you to talk to a sketch artist, tell them I was wearing a mask the whole time.”

He nodded with a shaky breath.

I knelt down on one knee and looked at the girl. She was barely holding back sobs. She looked so scared. It broke my heart. 

I brushed away a stray tear from her cheek. 

“It’s going to be okay. Be strong,” I told her before standing back up and ushering them toward the ladder.

“They’re almost here,” Peter whispered in my ear.

“I know,” I replied, pulling him aside. 

“What’s the plan? They’re gonna know you helped them escape.”

“Not if they find us fighting.”

“Are you crazy? I’m not going to fight you!”

“Yes, you are, and you’re not going to pull your punches because I need to lose and it can’t look like I’m going easy on you.” He shook his head and looked at the ground. “Mondello needs to see why I failed. He needs to see you here. First thing you need to do is get my sword out of my hand. That way I can’t stab you. Then get me on the ground. Do whatever you have to.”

“I’m not going to fight you,” he repeated. 

“You have to, Peter.” I pulled him close by his collar. I could tell that Mondello’s men were close. “Fight,” I breathed. “Fight like my life depends on it.”

The door to the roof was kicked open.

My helmet reformed around my face.

I threw the first punch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:DDDDD


	20. Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> something is definitely not normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shit but important Im sorry

I swung my sword up. Peter jumped back. I swung again. He dived and rolled away. The gravel of the roof crunched under my feet. He frantically looked around while crawling back. 

In my peripheral vision, I saw Mondello hold out his arm, stopping Mateo and Tristan from intervening.

I stalked closer. He shot a web at a steam pipe and ripped it loose from the metal heating unit. He stood up with the pipe in hand. He looked unsure of his footing. 

I darted forward, aiming for his shoulder. He blocked my blade with the pipe. Sparks flew. I let my sword slip. It pushed against the pipe with the flat side, otherwise, it would have cut through the rusted metal. 

In the short moment of stillness, we locked eyes. I gave him a small nod.

He exhaled and pushed forward. I stumbled backward, genuinely startled at his strength. 

He pushed my sword closer to my face. I flipped the blade again, sharp edge against the pipe. 

Peter faltered.

I knew what I was doing, nodding again.

The sword dug into the pipe. He pushed harder. 

The rocks under my feet shifted. 

I let the blade inch closer to my cheek. It squealed against the metal of my helmet. 

Peter suddenly twisted the sword out of my hands. I lost my balance. My head knocked into the gravel. 

I opened my eyes and saw him throw my sword off the building. I quickly got up and advanced. 

I ducked a punch. My fist connected with his gut. He kicked me backward. I tumbled to the ground again but rolled out of the way of some web. 

I got back up. My unprotected knuckles were an angry shade of red. 

Sirens sounded in the distance. 

_ We have to wrap this up fast. _

There was a long exchange of punches between us. He blocked most of mine. I fought through the pain. 

All at once, Peter swept his leg under me and my knees buckled. 

The city turned on its side as I fell.

He stepped over me.

“Do it,” I whispered. “Knock me out. Do it now.”

His shoulders dropped in defeat even though he won.

The sirens grew.

Peter wound up for the final punch.

The last thing I heard was a gunshot.

* * *

“There’s something wrong.”

“What?” I looked up, startled, at the dark figure sitting cross-legged in the grass before me. We hadn’t moved for what felt like hours of peaceful silence. Occasionally a bird would twitter in the trees or we’d hear a woodpecker somewhere far away. 

“Something’s not right.”

He looked around us slowly. I began to scan the forest as well. Everything looked normal. It rained like normal. The wind blew like normal. The grass and the ground felt normal.

Wren suddenly stood up. He stared up at the sky. I looked up too but everything looked . . . normal.

But then I felt it. Somewhere in my heart, I felt an unease. 

I got up. The mud and grass stuck to my bare feet. 

The edges of my vision started to go blurry. I went to look back to Wren but he was gone. The fog around swirled faster than before, as if it was being churned by an unseen force. It quickly blackened and got thicker, like smoke.

It burned in my chest.

Coughs spasmed through my lungs. 

The light that used to filter through the trees flickered indecisively. 

The smoke stung my eyes, bringing silent tears to roll down my face. 

I couldn’t stop coughing. 

I squinted down at my hands. They were splattered with dark red blood. The scent of which, densely filled the air.

I gagged in between coughs. 

My knees started to give out. 

I fell, clutching the nearest birch tree. 

My muscles burned.

I could barely make out a faint silhouette of a man walking towards me through the smoke.

My hands left streaks of red on the white bark of the tree.

I saw a pair of golden eyes. Intense, angry, golden eyes. 

He wore a three-piece suit.

Fear boiled under my skin. It made me twitch. I threw myself from the tree and crawled away on my back, still staring at the man. 

The air felt like it was crushing me. Like concrete was piled on top of my chest.

I clawed at the ground frantically, bloodying my fingertips as he knelt over me. 

His hair fell in between his eyes like it always did when he would look down at me. 

“It’s just a dream,” I whimpered.

“Oh, but is it?” he countered.

I looked at him, wide-eyed.

“This is just a dream,” I said again, shaking my head. 

The forest got darker. My words echoed around us. They were warped and distorted into different inflections.

_ “Is this just a dream?”  _ my twisted words asked back to me in shrill whispers. “ _ This isn’t just a dream.” _

“What do you want?!” I screamed.

_ “What do we want?”  _

_ “What do we want?” _

_ “What do we want, hmm?” _

“I want,” Adrian hummed, “to  _ break _ you.”

* * *

I jerked awake.

“Where is he?!” I shouted, immediately standing up from the leather chair.

“He’s not here.”

“What?” I turned to look at Mondello. He sat behind a large mahogany desk, polished and reflected the modest chandelier that lit the lavish room. Bookshelves lined the walls and long white curtains were drawn over large, nearly ceiling to floor windows with elaborate pearly trim. “Spider-Man. He’s not here,” he said simply.

I took a moment to catch my breath and easy my jittering heart. I sat back down, panic gnawing at my bones.

“ _ Where _ is here?”

“Mmm, my office. My place . . . of business. The longitude and latitude shouldn’t matter.”

“Well, it might to me.”

“You know, my men have had run-ins with him before,” he changed the subject quickly, “but never have they reported that the boy didn’t have any quips or banter.”

_ Is this what heart palpitations feel like?  _

“So?” I asked.

“ _ So _ ,” He paused for a very long time, or was it just my imagination? “What have you done to royally piss him off, eh?”

I took a quick breath.

“I dunno. I suppose I’ve stabbed a lot of people.” 

He considered my answer for a moment before eventually shaking his head.

“Bullshit.”

We locked eyes. 

“Not technically. I may or may not have killed his uncle.” The lie stung my throat and fell heavily from my tongue, but it was the first thing I came up with.

He studied me with a calculated gaze. 

“So I guess I’ll leave then,” I said, playing the odds.

“Oh?”

“I failed, didn’t I? I didn’t get the girl. I lost the father. I couldn’t beat Spider-Man. Obviously my  _ job interview _ didn’t go too well.”

“Ehhh, there’s been worse.” He got up from behind his desk and walked towards me. “I’ll call you.”

And with that, he showed me out. Two different men were stood outside the door. One held my jacket and the other had my sword. 

They drove me back to the restaurant. The windows of the car were almost completely black from the inside. 

My thoughts swirled in a chaos in my head.

I barely remembered riding home from the restaurant. 

_ What was he doing in the forest? That wasn’t actually him, right? How did he . . . ? How did Wren know? Why did I get trapped there? What⸺ _

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!”

“W-w-what?” I looked at Stark who was standing in front of me.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” I heard a small voice say from somewhere in the warehouse. “It’s just a graze.”

“W-what?” I stuttered again, leaning to see behind Stark. Peter walked up to the doorway. He held a bloody rag to his chest.

I took an unsteady step back. My breath hitched. 

“Lorraine, I’m fine, I promise.”

I took another step back.

“I didn’t mean for this,” I whispered.

And another step. 

“I didn’t want this.”

I started running.

“What was I thinking?”

I wove through the traffic.

“I’m dangerous.”

I ran faster.

“I’m just as bad as him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mlehh :/


	21. Freak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the midnight train blues strike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ollo, I almost accidentally forgot to post today so its super late at night for me yay! I got carried away with the revisions so its quite a bit longer than the original draft so yikes sorry. anyway. happy reading!

At some point, I found myself in the subway station. The traffic outside was too thick. I wanted⸺ _ needed _ to keep moving. Something in my subconscious told me so. 

My feet walked me onto the train and stood me at the end with fewer people.

Passengers went in and out. 

The train lurched forward. 

The lights flashed by outside the windows.

Light.

Dark.

Light.

Dark.

Light. 

Dark. 

The train squealed to a stop.

Passengers went in and out. 

I stayed. 

The train lurched forever forward. 

And the dark always lingered a little bit longer than the light did. 

* * *

“ . . . Wren?”

There was no wind.

“Wren?” I whispered again against the static silence. 

There was no rain. There were no echoes. The dry air smelled faintly of smoke. A red sun blazed brightly in the clear orange sky. The ground crackled. Twigs laid alight, the last remnants of a fire. Ash floated through the air.

The trees stood blackened, barren of leaves. 

I could see down the hillside, to the other hills, to the horizon. 

I walked for miles through the quiet.

Nothing was left. 

My soot coated bare feet, and dust got kicked up as I wandered.

The sun eventually dipped below the horizon and left me with a starless sky. No moon looked down at me.

And I had no one to look for.

* * *

“---Hey, get off me, pervert!”

I sighed and rolled over to stare at the rippled metal ceiling. My back ached from laying on the plastic seats. I groaned as I got up and gauged my surroundings. 

The train was mostly empty. There was an older woman sitting unbothered in the corner. At the other end of the car, stood a girl wearing a shorter than short blue leather dress and high heels I could only assume were made as a torture device. Her makeup was bright and her hair was messy.

And the man standing just a little too close to her looked like the type of man that would snivel if you threatened his right hand. He was all but breathing down her neck like an animal while one hand held tight to her wrist while the other lingered on her hip.

“Hey pal, how about you let her go.” I walked forward.

“Whatchya gon’ do ‘bout it, kid?”

I rolled my eyes. This was exhausting.

“Easy way or the bloody way, friend. Your pick.”

He scoffed.

My shadow split apart into strands that slithered towards him, making the lights flicker and dance.

I was done being subtle.

I continued walking, taking out one of the knives from my belt. 

He took a couple steps back, cornering himself against the wall as I twiddled with the blade.

With a flourish, the knife was millimeters from the skin just under his jaw.

His breath quickened and he clamped his eyes shut. Sweat beaded on his forehead. 

“Get your fucking act together,” I hissed and sheathed the knife back on my belt.

The train slowed to pull into the station. I turned to walk back to my dirty corner of the car. 

“ _ Freak _ ,” the woman muttered as she got off the train.

“Yup,” I said simply.

* * *

“Hey Pix?”

“Yeah?”

“How many times have I threatened to fix you?” I asked, letting my mind wander as I stared up at the ceiling. 

It was about four in the morning. The train car was empty now. Still, it rumbled on through its loop under the towers of the city. 

“I believe the number is around ninety-three times, why?

“Have you ever wondered why I haven’t?”

She was silent for a moment. I expected some smartass comment about me being lazy or something. The rumbling stillness of the empty car was only broken by my slow breathing. “Pix?” I asked, wondering if she’d shut off somehow.

“It is because he created me?”

I chuckled.

“You know, I bounced from foster home to orphanage to foster home. My one constant was this ratty box of stuff. Old, dirty stuffed animals, some of my father’s books, some of my mother’s signature recipes, a bunch of ripped pieces of crumpled paper, a bunch of notebooks, and a hard drive . . .  _ you _ .” I closed my eyes and winced at the memories.

Everyone always thought I was weird. Some kids were scared of me. It always hurt. I couldn’t make friends very well. People didn’t like me when I was just being me.

So I became something that  _ should _ be feared; something that _shouldn’t_ be liked.

I started bullying the little kids. I swiped their allowances. I pushed them around. I got into fights at school. I talked back to teachers until I got bored and simply began skipping school altogether. But then it got out of hand.

I broke into the liquor cabinets and jewelry boxes of whichever family I was with at the time and sold whatever I could, including plastic baggies of dried parsley. 

I graffitied buildings and keyed cars and when people would get in my way, I’d usually try to punch my way out. 

But I kept that stupid box, with the stupid stuffed animals that I would cry into when nobody was around, and the stupid notebooks and scraps of paper that I would pour over, tracing the writing, struggling to remember how it felt to hold the hand that scrawled illegibly across the pages. I would recite the stupid recipes and promise that I would make them all when I had my own home, and my heart was inescapably captured by those stupid books, like they were word sent directly from god . . . or . . . whoever was the marionettist pulling all my strings and puppeting me into my future.

The books told of the old legends, of a great king named Arthur, of the old wizard, Merlin. The myths of magic and wars and knights wound around my neck and wrists and ankles, hardening into shackles, chaining me to a destiny I forgot I had, and binding me to the painfully happy memories of  _ before _ . 

The memories of sparring against my father with twigs from the ground, against Adrian, or against tree branches in the forest. 

The memories of tracking mud into the kitchen because I could smell the wonderful scent of cookies or cakes or bread. 

The memories of Christmas decorations and Thanksgiving dinner and Easter egg hunting and camping in the backyard and building blanket forts in the living room and playing board games and wearing pink or yellow or whatever bright colors I wanted and playing dress-up and Adrian humoring his little sister and letting her put makeup on him and paint his nails and getting into tickle wars and pillow fights and walking with her to the bus stop because she was afraid.

_ It hurts so much. _

The last possession I had was nothing more than a black metal box to a child. There was no purpose.

“When I ran away for probably the hundredth time, I was going to throw away the hard drive. It didn’t mean anything to me. I didn’t care about what it was because I didn’t know what was trapped inside it.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No . . . I didn’t. I don’t know why. It just felt wrong.” A mild wave of nausea passed over me, not unlike the feeling I had, about to chuck the worthless black box into a dumpster.

The moment passed like fine sand through the fingertips of reality.

“I still don’t know what happened _that_ day. But, something was wrong with him. Something  _ is _ wrong with him. He came back . . . wrong. And you’re one of the only things I have left of the old Adrian. The Adrian who would walk with me in the woods. Who would play games with me. The same Adrian who would roll his eyes at me and play tricks on me and shut me out of his room and skip family dinners and yell at me for being annoying and get into fights with mom and dad. That same Adrian who left for Stanford. But that same Adrian who always came home again, with stories about the universe and tangents about nothing and everything.”

“He’s your brother.”

“He  _ was  _ my brother,” I corrected with a sigh. 

“Do you think he’s gone?”

“What?”

“Do you think that the old Adrian is just gone? Dead? A long time ago, you told me that when . . . it happened, he disappeared almost into thin air. Do you think that the Adrian that came back isn’t the Adrian that left?”

I laughed.

“What, like a clone?”

“Why not?” she asked. 

“I don’t know. And why do you care all of a sudden?”

“Curiosity?”

“Robots shouldn’t have curiosity,” I smiled. 

“Ulgh, I take serious offense to that,” she retorted, her tone lightening up. “I’m _much_ better than a robot.”

“Well, at least a robot could make me a decent cup of coffee.” I stood up and stretched my back with a yawn. “Are the boys still at the house?”

“Peter left the warehouse a few hours ago to try and find us. Stark, however, decided to wait for you if you were to come back.”

“And the bug?”

“I’ve been listening all day. All I’ve got is a one-sided phone call and horrifyingly tangled up trying to decrypt Mondelo’s computer.”

“Keep working on the computer. Can I hear the phone call?”

_ “I-I-I apologize for the inconvenience, sir, but⸺”  _ it was Mondello.  _ “Just a little more time, please. I’ll get the money to you in a week, I pro⸺”  _ the audio was silent for a moment.  _ “I know, Onyx, sir, I am aware of what I’m asking. A week. That’s⸺ Three days? Sir, I don’t think⸺No! No. Three days works. Okay, three days. Yes, sir, three days. Heh heh. I understand. Thank you Mr. Wolff, sir.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> give my your theories. I want to know what you think of the series so far. Who's your fav/least fav character?


	22. Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She expected an altercation. none came. then a slightly suspicious thing happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYO LADS! I lowkey LOVE this chapter because . . . well . . . you'll see. Anyway, I have some bad news . . . well, bad news for you; mostly neutral news for me. ANyway! I'm
> 
> you guessed it
> 
> gonna go on another hiatus. IM SORRY BUT this one was in the calendar for a while. Im taking 4 weeks off for the holiday season. (It would have been 3 weeks but the next chapter doesn't have a good enough cliffhanger to leave yall on for an extended period of time *evil laughter* 
> 
> So yeah. My goal is to have the entire rest of the story written for the new year so I can start drafting up something new (I welcome suggestions on the new thing cuz I've currently got squat). 
> 
> Again. I'm sorry. I'm gonna miss you guys :'(
> 
> P.s. there are 2 pretty subtle things that happen in this chapter, see if you can pick up on them :3
> 
> P.p.s. My goodest friend Emma and @auntmayy on tumblr did a fantastic art of Raine.
> 
> P.p.p.s. My hand may have slipped and done an art of my own w Raine (check it out at @paradoxicalblueberry under the '#art by a blueberry' tag)

The rusty door rattled open. Snow and ice fell from the grooves in the metal as the frosted wheels squeaked along the steel tracks in the concrete. I peeked inside. The lights were on. The room was silent and warm.

And the air smelled like air freshener and blood.

“Lorraine?”

I sighed and slid the door back into place.

“Stark, it’s five in the morning. I’m too tired for you to yell at me. Plus there are more important topics at hand. I sent Peter a text. He’s on his way over.”

I didn’t face him. I couldn’t. My eyes were down at the ground and I let my hair fall in front of my face as I grabbed a glass of water. 

There was the soft warmth of a hand on my shoulder. I froze. The water began to overflow from the glass into the sink. 

“I just wanted to say . . . that I’m . . . I’m sorry,” he said slowly. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Why? It  _ was _ my fault.”

“It wasn’t. I’m all too familiar with that train of thought. The  _ ‘people around me are dying and I’m the only connection between them’ _ thought. The  _ ‘none of this would’ve happened if I had just stopped trying to save the world’  _ thought.”

I shut off the tap and poured out the excess water in the glass.

“I was just scared,” he continued. “I’m always afraid for the day that Peter gets too hurt, loses too much blood, hits his head too hard, breaks too many bones. I’m scared for the day that he doesn’t come home at all. And I’m scared that one of those things’ll happen to you, too.”

A moment of silence drew out between us like a thread about to be cut.

“H-how’s the clockmaker? His daughter?” I asked, changing the subject. I didn’t want to think about my best friend dying anymore, but yet it still clung to my thoughts. I blinked away the sting in my eyes and swallowed my stutter.

“On a plane to Denver. From there, anywhere they wish.”

“And the police? They think I did it?” I shuffled around the counter.

“Yeah. Well, they think a person with metal armor, a knight helmet, and a sword did it.”

I gave a half-hearted laugh. 

“How did the meeting with Mondello go?” He asked.

“I woke up in a strange room with a mafia boss, so, you know,” I shrugged with a tense chuckle. “He told me he’ll ‘ _ call me’ _ if I’m ‘ _ needed’.”  _ I rolled my eyes. _ “ _ So I planted a bug in his office.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Pix picked up a phone call between him and someone who he’s  _ very _ afraid of.” 

I turned to face the light above the dining table, and absentmindedly lifted up my shirt to see how bad the bruises were. 

“ _ Jesus Christ, kid!  _ Are you okay?!” 

_ Wow, that bad, huh? _

Stark darted toward me. I took a few startled steps back.

“Oh, you know. It only hurts when I breathe,” I answered with a laugh that quickly turned into a coughing fit.

“Hey, why don’t we have you sit down.” 

His hand was on my back, gently guiding me to a chair.

“I’m fine,” I protested through coughs. “I was joking . . . sorta. I’m⸺good,” I wheezed.

The coughing didn’t stop.

The lights began to flicker violently. I looked wildly around the room. Stark didn’t seem to notice. 

“Hey, calm down. What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly. 

I couldn’t find my words.

The glass slipped from my hand and shattered.

A sharp, white-hot pain split through my skull. 

I don’t know if I screamed. All I knew was that I felt the rough cold of concrete against my cheek as I spasmed on the floor. 

Everything was muted and amplified at the same time. 

The smell of blood thickened. 

I pried my eyes open and saw smoke curling around me. 

The door slid open, letting in blinding light. 

A silhouette of a man walked towards me. 

“What’s wrong?” he sneered. The gold in his eyes burned through me.

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” I screamed, clutching my ringing ears. “GET OUT!” 

Over and over, my shrill demands turned to whispered pleads until my voice soon grew hoarse. 

I tried to crawl away from him. I felt my fingertips bleed against the floor. 

“What is  _ wrong _ with you?” he taunted, his words echoed louder and louder.

I shut my eyes. 

The echoes became shrieks that shattered the windows, allowing dense snow to blow in with the shards of glass. 

_ “Lorraine! Lorraine?! Can you hear me?” _

_ “What’s wrong? What’s wrong with her?” _

_ “Lorraine, listen to me! Whatever you see, it’s not real!” _

_ “Hey, it’s me. It’s Peter. Lorraine look at me! It’s Peter. I’m right here.” _

_ “It’s not real! Listen to me. He’s not here. Adrian’s not here. He’s not real.” _

_ “I don’t know what to do. Mr. Stark what do I do?!” _

_ “Get a washrag and some water.” _

The warehouse began crumbling around me. The walls rotted away in the wind. The support beams fell with deafening cracks that shook my bones. The ceiling crumpled and blew away. 

It was just us and the raging river. 

_ “Christ, she’s burning up.” _

The cold spray kicked up from the waves crashing against the retaining wall drenched me from head to toe.

It felt like I was going to shiver through my skin.

He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and dragged me towards the river.

My heels scraped along the ground while my nails dug into his hands in my struggle. 

He stopped and held me out on the edge of the wharf. 

Below me, the water reached out and traced an icy finger down my back.

Only the tips of my toes could still reach the ground.

_ “Lorraine wake up!” _

My arms flailed to his sleeve, ringing it in my hands, trying to keep from falling. 

_ “Ow, Lorraine, you’re hurting my arm.” _

The waves jumped up and licked at the bare skin of my legs.

He tore my hands from his arm.

My breath quivered.

He let go.

_ “I-is she breathing?” _

Water filled my lungs and burned my sinuses.

I tried to swim to the surface. 

Something kept pulling me down just before I could reach the air.

Farther and farther. 

The river got darker and darker. 

The water got heavier and heavier.

“Christine,” I heard a garbled voice say. “Christine, swim!”

_ “Lorraine, fight.” _

My body felt frozen solid. 

My joints cracked.

My brain went numb.

Which way was up?

It was too dark. 

_ “Come back to us.” _

There was a glint of light.

Moonlight? 

Starlight?

The gates of Heaven?

The fires of Hell?

It was dim but it was there, streaming down through the waves, cutting through to the depths around me.

* * *

I shuddered awake. My skin was sticky with sweat. My face was wet with tears. Shallow breaths heaved from my lungs. I couldn’t stop shaking.

“Hey, shhhhh,” Stark mumbled. “You’re alright. You’re alright. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

I wasn’t in the water. The walls were still in one piece. The windows weren’t cracked. There was no snow blowing inside. There was no smoke. The lights weren’t flickering.

Adrian wasn’t here.

I was on the floor, loosely cradled in Stark’s arms, my head resting against his chest. 

His heartbeat grounded me. 

_ Thump thump . . . Thump thump . . . Thump thump . . . Thump thump . . . Thump thump . . . _

I felt the rise and fall of his chest against my cheek with every breath he took. I instinctively nuzzled closer as more tears fell down my face and loud, ugly sobs racked my body. He gently rocked me back and forth while softly stroking the back of my head, muttering quiet reassurements. 

Peter, holding my hand, delicately squeezed it in his. 

I weakly squeezed back. 

_“Thank god you’re okay,”_ Tony whispered before giving my forehead a light kiss. _“You’re alright. You’re okay. Everything’s okay. I’ve got you, kid.”_

_ Thump thump . . .  _

_ Thump thump . . . _

_ Thump thump . . . _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reigning Shadows will return January 14th, 2020
> 
> Our hero's sanity?  
> . . . Mmmmm we'll just have to wait and see.
> 
> Have a wonderful holiday season and a happy new year!!! <3<3<3  
> See yall not so soon (yikes, sorry again)


	23. Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mystery mystery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who done fucked up and forgot to post because they're a fuckin moron. You got it. MEEE! Sorry guys. I even had a reminder set and everything . . . but in my defense, its finals week AND I'm sick sooooooooooooo, ya know, my mind is otherwise occupied with my impending doom.
> 
> This chapter sucks so bad but I didn't have time to rewrite it. Sorry guys.

I must have fallen asleep in Tony’s arms, listening to his heartbeat.

I was greeted with no dreams. No nightmares. No forest. No burning hillside. Just a heartbeat.

_ Thump thump . . . _

_ Thump thump . . . _

_ “Hey Pep. I’m sorry, I won’t be home for a while. Hopefully, I’ll be back for dinner. How does take out sound? Look, just let me know when you get this. Sorry.” _

_ “I got back as soon as I could, Mr. Stark. MJ was giving me a hard time about skipping academic decathlon again. How’s she doing?” _

_ “Been asleep since this morning. She hasn’t stirred or anything.” _

_ “Do you have any idea what happened yet?” _

_ “No.”  _

_ “Has Pix got anything on Wolff?” _

_ “No.” _

The couch creaked as I stretched under the comforter with a yawn. 

Tony and Peter looked at me.

I looked back at them, my eyes just barely above the covers.

There was utter silence between us. Until . . . 

“Lorraine, do you want to explain what the fuck happened this morning?!” Tony blurted. 

I winced at his volume and buried my head back under the blanket.

“Shhhhh shhhh shuuuuuuuushhhhhhh,” was my response along with an assortment of grumbles. “Can I at least have some water first?” I mumbled.

My head throbbed. My gut ached.

Tony took a seat on the coffee table and Peter came back with a bottle of water.

A couple of antsy moments passed before the silence broke.

“ _ So?” _

I tediously sat up against the armrest and slowly exchanged eye contact with them in turn

“So . . . a while ago, I⸺”

“No,” Tony interjected. “No approximations.”

I glared at him.

“Fine.  _ The night after I saved you _ ,” I directed a pointed look at Peter, “I was on the roof. Something⸺someone came up to me. He was the one who gave me my powers.”

And that was it. I had no more secrets left. I told them everything. About Wren. About the forest. The dreams, the  _ not _ dreams, Adrian, the fire, the smoke, the river, everything. 

I expected them to get up and leave right then and there. To walk away muttering how I must be crazy or something. That they should have never trusted me. 

I wouldn’t blame them if they did. 

But they stayed, albeit more confused than before. 

“Stark, you asked me to figure out my priorities. I’m doing this for Peter. I’m doing this for my brother. And I’m doing this because a long time ago, a seven-year-old girl with frizzy red hair, a pink raincoat, and a stick made a promise in the rain,” I said to conclude my hours of talking. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I don’t understand. Pix went through all of the licenses in New York. He should have come up, right?” Peter said while he paced the length of the living room. 

Tony had gone outside to make a couple of phone calls about god knows what. 

“You realize that Wolff’s probably not his _ real _ name,” I responded from the kitchen, pouring myself a cup of coffee. 

“Well, make sure to let us know when you come up with a better idea, then,” he said bitterly. 

“Are you feeling okay?” I held out a cup of hot cocoa to him but he didn’t take it so I just set it down on the table.

“I’m sorry, it’s just a headache.”

“I’ve got some aspirin,” I offered.

“I think I’m just gonna go. I’ve got,” he hesitated, staring at his winter jacket like there was something written on it, “homework and exams to study for and whatever.”

“Oh, umm, okay. Don’t stress yourself out too much with this Wolff guy. Your life comes first.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled. 

My brows furrowed. 

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I told you, I’m fine!” he snapped. 

I gaped at him, stunned.

“ . . . I’m  _ sure _ you are,” I replied sarcastically but I bit my tongue to keep from saying anything more. 

“I’ll just . . . see you later.”

Just as he turned to leave, I caught a glint of, it had to have just been sunlight, out of the corner of his eye. 

He didn’t even bother shutting the door on his way out. I jogged after him into the alley but he was already gone.

“What’s up with him?” Tony asked from behind me, coming back inside from his phone call. 

“I-I don’t know. He said he had a headache and then stormed off.”

“That doesn’t really seem like Peter.”

“He’s . . . probably just tired or something.”

God, I felt so selfish. 

I was just sucking up everybody’s time. Everybody’s lives. Why do they continue to waste their patience on me?

Without even thinking, I poured out the hot chocolate into the sink, watching the steam slowly rise up from the drain. 

“Hey, kid.”

“Yeah?” I sighed, spinning around. Tony’s brows were furrowed. I could see the cogs turning in his head. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?” I asked quickly.

He was silent.

“What’s wrong?” I asked again. Fear bubbled in the pit of my stomach. I walked up to him, not knowing what to expect. 

“I just had a horrible realization,” he finally said. 

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Can you show me a picture of Adrian?”

“Y-yeah okay, why?”

I grabbed one of the bar stools, dragged it over to the wall, and climbed up to reach the loose piece of steel paneling. Once it jiggled loose, it revealed a safe embedded in the wall.

It clicked open as I entered the last number in the combination. I grabbed a small picture frame from on top of several bricks of cash and a hard drive connected to a little block with a blinking green light, moving aside several ever-aging stuffed animals.

Tony watched me intently as I hopped down from the chair, leaving the safe open, and hesitantly showed him the picture taken of my family about eleven years ago. He moved to hold it but Trepidation made me flinch and pull it away slightly.

I internally cursed myself and held it out for him again.

“Jesus fuck.”

“What?”

“I knew it,” he breathed. “ _ Shit!” _

“ _ What?” _

"Wolff,  _ Chester  _ Wolff is the chief operating officer of Genesis Enterprises."

"What?"

Tony took a fortifying breath. "Chester Wolff is Adrian."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck.


	24. Devil's in the White Noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> plan??? I don't need no stinkin' plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YO it me i don't really know what to put in here but whatever Hi hello I hope yall are doing good.

“What? No. How do you know that?!” I demanded.

“Because Stark Industries and Genesis Enterprises were going to partner on a project but the whole thing fell through. I was there at one of the board meetings. I shook his hand and we exchanged numbers.” Tony said as I continued pacing the length of the room.

My mind was racing. Chester Wolff. Chester Wolff and my brother were the same person.

“What does this mean? How come I’ve never figured it out? Billionaires are always on the news.  _ You’re _ always on the news. I would have seen him, right?”

“I’m on the news when I want to be, kid.” He stood up from the wall he was leaning against. “Plus the whole Iron Man and Avenger’s thing makes it hard for me to avoid the press, so . . .”

He stood in front of me. I tried to move past him. 

“Lorraine, calm down.”

“How on earth should I do that, huh?! You just told me where my brother is right now!”

“But we can’t do anything about it  _ right now _ .” He put his hands on my shoulders, steadying me.

“Yes, I can,” I responded, ducking under his arms.

“You're still hurt.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

I grabbed the vambraces and my sword from the counter.

“What are you planning on doing? Just  _ storming into Genesis Enterprises?!”  _ he snapped.

“Yes.”

The door slid open. 

He caught my hand. 

“Let go!”

“Think about this logically, kid,” he sighed loosening his grip and holding his hands up in surrender. I paused and took a breath, looking him in the eye. “If you go out there, he’ll know that we know.”

“If I don’t go out there, he’ll get away,” I said desperately, stepping closer to Tony and pointing out the door.

“Lorraine, you’re not thinking clearly. Just take a few minutes--”

The phone in his hand started buzzing and he paused to glance at it. 

“It’s just Pepper. I’ll talk to her later.”

“No, it’s fine,” I muttered. “Go ahead. Take it.”

“No,  _ you’re _ what’s important right now, kid.”

“Just take the call, Stark. It could be an emergency or something.”

A moment passed as he searched my gaze before he turned and answered his phone.

I slipped off the vambraces and silently set them on the table and wrote a quick note, sticking it on the cool metal, all while not taking my eyes off Tony. He had his back turned on me. 

_ I’ll try not to do anything stupid. _

The metal door rattled shut, causing him to spin around wide-eyed. I gave a small salute and I sprinted to my bike.

“Lock the door, will ya, Pix.”

I heard pounding against the door as I revved up the engine.

“Sorry, Stark!” I shouted, “Can’t have you following me with the armor.”

The brisk wind whipped past me as I sped out of the alleyway.

* * *

“Raine?”

I didn’t answer.

“Raine, are you listening to me?! This is a horrible, shortsighted, terrible,  _ stupid  _ plan!” Pix shouted in my ear.

I ignored her and pulled my hood lower.

The crowd of pedestrians walking around me felt claustrophobic. I had parked the bike in an alley a few blocks back. Every time I glanced up, I could see the Genesis building looming closer.

_ How many steps was I away from Adrian? How many breaths away were we from meeting for the first time in 8 years? _

_ How many lives away were we from ending whatever the hell this game is? _

I could see the building’s entrance. 

Cars honked in the traffic. 

People talked on their phones. 

Dogs barked. 

Sirens wailed. 

Construction workers yelled.

Jackhammers roared.

There was so much noise.

Too much.

It was all just too much. 

_ How many thoughts away was I from deciding what to do with him? _

The building got closer.

_ And if I killed him, how many waves of guilt would I have to endure before drowning? _

I stopped outside the revolving doors of the building. 

The stream of people pushed past me. 

I barely registered their grumbles of frustration.

The world had faded away.

Everything was muted.

_ “How many times are you going to kick yourself if you don’t take this chance?”  _ Adrian breathed in my ear. 

I spun around. He wasn’t there.

_ “How many more seconds are you going to let me stand in the way of your. . . righteousness?”  _ he whispered in my other ear, breath ghosting over my skin and bringing goosebumps to my neck. 

I shuddered.

_ “How many years of your life have you spent wanting revenge?”  _ he said from behind me.  _ “And how many more opportunities like this are you going . . . to . . . get . . . ?”  _

He stepped out in front of me. He was taller than I remembered, lanky. I was forced to look up at him. His hair was shiny with gel. The peach fuzz that I remember was now a well-maintained scruff. 

He stared through me, casually adjusting his cufflinks and collar. 

_ “Well,”  _ he paused, _ “what are you waiting f⸺” _

He snapped out of focus when a woman rushed by, walking straight through my hallucination and crashing into me. 

She was already several paces away from me when I picked myself up from the ground, still in a daze. 

She turned her head. 

We locked eyes. 

The world stopped spinning around me.

I remembered that fear . . .  _ her  _ fear . . . her.

My mind flashed back to the hazel-eyed woman in the subway station just before it collapsed.

I took a step toward her.

And she began to run the other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important question!!!! I need ideas/prompts(?) for my next story. Warning: I CAN NOT GUARANTEE THAT I WILL WRITE ANY OF THEM but idk.
> 
> ALSO!!!! If I were to maybe perhaps write a completely original story (no promises) would any of you be interested? should I post in here on ao3 oooorrrrrrrrrrrrrr . . . . I kinda don't want to switch to a different platform thingy because I just don't really want to mess with it but if I absolutely have to I will. Anyway. yea.


	25. The Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a mystery solved?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imma just preface this by saying that this chapter is a bit rough.
> 
> WARNING: DEPRESSIVE EPISODE & MENTION/ATTEMPT OF SUICIDE  
> Please don't read this if it's going to hurt you.

“Hey!” I shouted.

She kept running.

People cursed at me as I shoved past them, sprinting through traffic and dodged cabs at intersections. I pinballed against strangers, darting between cars and sliding across hoods. 

“Shit!” 

There was no sight of her anywhere.

I skidded to a stop and started to spin in circles in the middle of a road.

Cars honked at me. 

My heavy breath condensed into the air around me.

I jumped up to the less crowded sidewalk in time to evade a particularly fearless cab.

_ Where the hell did she go? _

Abruptly, a hand was placed over my mouth and I was swept into an alleyway and pinned against a frigid brick wall.

_ “Who do you work for?!”  _ she hissed.

I felt the barrel of a pistol against my rib cage. My shaky breath turned grey through her gloved fingers in the cold air.

“ _ Who . . .  _ do you work for?!” she repeated, looking nervously into the street and removing her hand. 

“I-I,” I stammered, caught off guard. 

“You were there. In the subway station.”

I nodded.

Her face was hard, yet subtle winkles hinted that her smiles were soft and kind. Her gaze was unwavering, but there was fear behind her eyes. Her hair was a dark, rusty blond and cut shorter than the last time I saw her. 

“Why?” she demanded.

“You first,” I responded, regaining my composure. 

“How about you tell me, and I won’t  _ shoot _ you.” She pressed the gun harder into my gut.

“I heard screams. I went to go see what was going on, followed you and your kidnappers into the subway station and got caught. Is that it?” I said, rolling my eyes. 

“She spoke about you like you were meant to be there.”

“Well duh. Of course it was a trap. They wanted me. You were the bait.”

“But y⸺” she paused for a pedestrian to pass by the alley. “But you fell for it.”

“I didn’t  _ fall _ for anything. I chose to  _ save _ you. You should be thanking me.”

“You had your ass  _ handed  _ to you.”

“That doesn’t matter. Who are you?”

“You first.”

_ What did I have to lose at this point? _

“My name is Lorraine,” I sighed in defeat. 

There was a moment of silence between us.

“I’m Kate Mayfield, CEO of Gen⸺”

“Fucking Genesis Enterprises?! God fucking fuck!” I pushed her away from me, not caring about the gun. She looked at me, startled. 

I turned away from her, fury in my eyes, and stormed out of the alley.

“Wait!”

I walked faster.

There was almost nobody around anymore. Everyone was inside, away from the cold.

“Come back!” Her shout echoed among the quiet street and her high heels clicked on the sidewalk behind me. 

“What?!” I turned around abruptly and walked back up to her, getting up in her face. “What do you want from me?! Obviously no one ever taught you not to play with your next murder victim. But then again, I wouldn’t expect anything less from someone who works with  _ him. _ God, I guess I really am that stupid, huh! You were the bait yet again and I fucking fell for it again!”

“What?” 

“Just fucking kill me already, Jesus Christ,” I yelled at her. “I’m done being manipulated! What more does he want?! Hasn’t there been enough of this shit?! Doesn’t he get tired of watching his little pet experiment scurry around in search of answers? Does he want to drive me mad? What’s the end result he’s looking for? Does he even want to kill me at all or does he was my to just fucking break and do it for him?!” I grabbed the gun from her trembling hands and held it up to my temple. 

“You know what, no. He wouldn’t want my death to be that clean and quick!” I moved the gun to hover over my heart. “You know, a person can live for up to about ten minutes of agony after being shot in the heart?! Let’s give it a go, shall we?”

She looked at me with wide eyes.

I pulled the trigger and the gun clattered to the ground. 

“You’re a coward and he probably already knows it,” I yelled, walking away from her and the empty glock.

“I don’t work for Chester. I’m trying to find out what he’s doing to my company and to my people.”

“Good luck! Hundred bucks says you’ll be dead within the week, Ms. Mayfield. Less than three days if you continue following me.”

“Where are you going?!”

“Home.”

“You can’t  _ go _ . I need help,” she said jogging to catch up with me. 

“I don’t care.”

She paused.

“A few months ago, some accounting errors were brought to my attention,” she said, regardless. “I looked into them and they all led back to Chester. I asked him about it and he said it was nothing. I⸺”

“You dug deeper. Maybe tried to follow him home a couple of times, but he always disappears somewhere, is that it?”

“One night, I was close, got farther following him than ever before.”

“But you were intercepted by a fiery lady and a couple of goons and taken to the subway station.”

“I’m just looking for answers,” she pleaded.

“Find them somewhere else. I’m done!”

“You’re done?”

“Yes!” I stopped dead in my tracks and looked her in the eye. “I’m. Done.”

It started to snow as I trudged away from her, hands tucked in my sweatshirt pockets. Shivers went up my spine against the wind.

She didn’t try to run after me and I didn’t look back. 

As nightfall set in, the cold reigned over the buildings that illuminated the sky. I blew hot air into my shirt, but it didn’t help. I didn’t lift my feet far from the ground. I cut through traffic. I walked past warmly lit cafes and rowdy bars. I tried not to tempt myself by looking through the windows of the cozy shops and restaurants I passed, so I opened my phone.

_ Hey peter _

_ Hey pete _

_ Hey pet _

_ Hey pe _

_ Hey p _

_ Hey. _

_ Hey. I was hoping _

_ Hey. I was hopin _

_ Hey. I was hopi _

_ Hey. I was hop _

_ Hey. I was ho _

_ Hey. I was h _

_ Hey. I was wondering if your _

_ Hey. I was wondering if you _

_ Hey. I was wondering if you’re doing  _

_ Hey. I was wondering if you’re doin _

_ Hey. I was wondering if you’re doi  _

_ Hey. I was wondering if you’re do _

_ Hey. I was wondering if you’re d _

_ Hey. I was wondering if you’re feeling better. Im s  _

_ Hey. I was wondering if you’re feeling better. Im  _

_ Hey. I was wondering if you’re feeling better. I’m sorry. _

_ Hey. I was wondering if you’re feeling better. I’m _

_ Hey. I was wondering if you’re feeling better.  _

_ Hey. I was wondering if you’re feeling _

_ Hey. I was wondering if you’re  _

_ Hey. I was wondering if  _

_ Hey. I was wondering  _

_ Hey. I was  _

_ Hey. I  _

_ Hey.  _

_ H _

Nevermind.

* * *

I wrestled with the lock before finally being able to pry the door open. I threw my stuff towards the couch and kicked off my boots, flinging them in the same general direction.

Tony was gone. I wasn’t surprised.

The fridge was mostly empty. The only stuff in there was a jug of milk with maybe a half a cup of milk left, some apples that had gone bad, and a few other miscellaneous things that were either past their expiration date or empty. 

A pair of feet shuffled.

I looked around, but no one was there. 

Suddenly, there was an arm wrapped around my neck, crushing my windpipe. 

I struggled against the person behind me. 

My nails clawed into their skin. 

They held on tighter. 

I felt a small pinch on the side of my neck. 

Cold numbness slowly spread through my body. 

The room started to spin.

Gravity increased.

My knees buckled.

My arms fell limp.

The person let go. 

I collapsed to the ground.

A pair of golden eyes stood over me.

“Peter?” I mumbled.

And then the cold took me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plot twist anyone?


	26. The Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things get a little *ahem* heated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have much to say rn soooooooo I hope all of you had a good week and . . . . uh . . . ya
> 
> Ur gon be real mad at me at the end of this chapter so sorry in advance ;)
> 
> ALSO WARNING: THIS CHAPTER GETS ROUGH 
> 
> also its kinda badly written so sorry

“WREN?!”

Everything was dead silent. 

What was left from the forest had turned to glass.

I ran.

Shards dug into my feet. 

“WREN! I NEED YOU!”

Barbed wire wrapped around my ankles.

I kept running.

Everything was dark. 

The ground behind me crumbled and fell into a void. 

Bright light erupted from cracks that spider-webbed from my bloody footprints. 

The trees exploded into billions of glittering pieces and left gashes of light in the ground as I sprinted past them.

The light sizzled against my skin. 

I ran faster. 

The teeth of the wire bit into my legs.

_ “WREN!” _ I screamed desperately. “ _ WHERE ARE YOU?!” _

The cracks circled around either side of me.

Every step I took, I was already falling.

Sweat rolled down my face. 

My muscles begged for me to stop. 

My lungs were on fire.

“WREN⸺”

I slipped.

And fell.

* * *

I blinked sluggishly, squinting through the bright spotlights pointed in my face. Everything was so cold. I coughed weakly, immediately wincing at the pain pounding through my skull. 

My wrists were tied down to the armrests of a chair so my hands were palm up. Needles stuck out of both of my arms, connected to tubes that snaked to bags of blood. 

I could barely keep my eyes open. My chest felt heavy with every breath. My fingertips tingled and my vision slid in and out of focus. My stomach churned and I swallowed down the urge to vomit.

“Nice to see you’ve kept up with the aesthetic, Christine,” Adrian’s hollow voice called out.

I raised an eyebrow and laughed. 

“You finally grew a pair and decided to deal with me yourself then, huh?” I spat, finally lifting my gaze to see he was pacing behind the two spotlights, gazing at the wall of swords. 

“God, were you always this bitchy? I don’t remember.”

“Oh,  _ I’m sorry _ . It’s not like I’m tied to a fucking chair and being drained of all my  _ fucking  _ blood or anything.”

“It does seem a little overdramatic, doesn’t it? Well, all in the name of  _ science _ ,” he stated theatrically before whispering something to someone on his left. “But anyway, not all by myself, no. I’ve got your little friend. Mmm Pierre or Patrick or whatever.”

“ _ Peter? _ ” I corrected through gritted teeth. 

“Ah, yeah. Well, it doesn’t matter. He’s mine now.” 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?!”

Adrian smiled. He was waiting for me to ask that. 

Peter emerged from the back of the room. His face was so pale and expressionless. Dark bags had formed under his empty golden eyes. 

He looked like a corpse.

“Oh, Peter,” I gave him a pleading look. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t acknowledge my words.

“So nice to see that you had tried to replace me. It’s a shame he turned on you like I did.”

“He didn’t ‘turn on me’,” I croaked, shaking my head. “You-You did something to him! You  _ infected  _ him _!” _

_ “ _ You’re not wrong, but then again, he didn’t put up much of a fight did he?”

“No, he didn’t,” a woman responded. It was the dark-skinned woman with short brown and orange hair from the subway. She was already pretty tall, but her high heeled boots made her a couple of inches taller than Adrian. 

“Let him go,” I seethed. 

“Why should we? He does whatever we want him to,” the woman answered. “Want a demonstration?”

Peter walked up to me. My heart broke seeing him like this. His eyes were unfocused. There was no soul behind them. Everything that made Peter  _ Peter _ was just . . . gone.

“Peter, you have to fight it. You need to fight him!” I begged. “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO HIM?!” I yelled at Adrian.

He frowned a moment, weighing his response. 

“Maybe it’s because I want revenge for not being chosen . . .” 

In his split-second pause, Peter grabbed my right index finger and twisted it around until it cracked loudly. 

Pain rocketed up my arm. I stifled a scream. Tears sprung to my eyes. 

“Maybe it’s because I never loved you . . .”

Peter twisted my middle finger. 

“Maybe it’s because you’ve been a pain in my ass ever since you were born.”

Then my ring finger.

I started to get dizzy.

“Maybe,” Adrain rushed up close, inches from my face. He looked almost feral. His eyes darted wildly around my features and his hair fell in his eyes. “Maybe it's because there’s this teensy weensy little voice in my head that tells me I should stop⸺” Adrian grabbed my pinky finger, “⸺but it just feels  _ so good _ when I don’t.” 

He whipped out a knife and plunged it into the palm of my hand.

I screwed my eyes shut. My cries drowned out his sick laughter.

“You were just so . . .  _ persistent,”  _ he said finally. “And annoying.”

Blood dripped from between my fingers. The knife was wedged into the wood of the chair.

Ragged breaths and grunts escaped from my lungs. Black smudges speckled my peripheral vision.

“Oh god, get over it,” he said in a condescending tone. “Are we done yet?” he asked a man in a white lab coat. The man jumped a little and scurried over to the bags of blood. 

“N-nearly,” he stuttered.

“Whatever.” Adrian pulled out a tin of cigarettes. “Georgia, honey. You wouldn’t mind . . .” He turned to the tall woman with the cigarette in his mouth. She smiled and took the smoke between her fingers and blew a gentle puff of sparks that lit the end and gave it back to Adrian. 

Peter turned from where he stood and walked to the back of the room, returning with two red, five-gallon containers. He unscrewed the top of one and started pouring it on the floor. 

The smell of gasoline instantly filled the room. 

The man with the lab coat unhooked the dark red bags and placed them in a cooler after taking the needles out of my arms. 

My heart quickened. I struggled against the zip ties around my wrists.

“Oh no, no, no,  _ no.  _ Let’s not go doing  _ that, _ shall we?” He said, jumping forward and twisting the knife in my hand. 

I screamed again.

I felt like I was about to faint. 

“Tsk tsk.” He shook his head and lightly slapped my cheek a few times. “I want you  _ awake _ when you die,” he said, cigarette still in his mouth. A manic grin spread across his face before he turned away again.

I closed my eyes in defeat and let my head fall between my shoulders. 

A feint.

In one swift motion, I ripped my left hand from under the zip tie, pulled the knife from my palm and drove the blade into his lower back.

He spun around and hit me across the face with the back of his hand. 

The chair tipped on its side and my shoulder slammed into the concrete. 

I frantically pulled at the other zip tie but it was slippery with blood. 

When I glanced back at Adrian, he was on one knee. His face was hidden. 

Thick black liquid ran down his pant leg and pooled on the floor. Georgia kneeled at his side. 

Gasoline continued to splash on the cement. 

The end of his cigarette glowed bright and when he looked up at me, he took it between his fingers and started to laugh, a low, breathy, choked laugh, before flicking the butt across the room. 

“Oopsie.”

The fire spread like a wave, traveling through the gasoline. I felt the heat on my cheeks as it ignited. 

“I think I’ll be keeping your little friend. Who knows what I can do with an itsy bitsy little Spider-Man on my side?” he yelled over the roaring fire. “You’re going to die alone, Christine. It’s what you’ve always deserved.”

“You don’t mean that,” I whimpered, tears falling down my cheeks.

The flames grew higher around us.

He walked over to me, crouched down, and held my chin in his hand. A finger lightly grazed my cheek. 

I looked him in the eyes. 

He watched, transfixed, as tears streaked down my face.

Just as soon as the harsh gold had flickered to a soft green, he blinked and the gold was back, and he turned away.

Without another word, they left. 

Peter didn’t even look back.

The fire rose and smoke flooded the air. 

I pulled at the plastic zip tie still retraining my wrist. My right hand was in excruciating pain. 

It was so hot.

The air distorted in the heat. 

Black smoke billowed all around me. 

I tried to smash the armrest of the chair. 

Coughs spasmed through my lungs. 

Something exploded with a hail of sparks and pops.

Everything around me was on fire. 

A metal beam crashed down in front of me. 

I yelped when the armrest wiggled free.

My legs were unsteady when I tried to stand and black dots clouded my vision.

I cradled my hand to my chest. 

I fell to my knees, sputtering from the smoke.

It burned my eyes.

I crawled towards the door with one hand. 

Another fire bathed pillar fell in my path.

The ground shook.

I couldn’t take a clean breath. 

My lungs begged for air.

The taste of copper filled my mouth.

* * *

Something caught my hand. 

“Wren?!”

“There’s no time,” he whispered.

“Where have you been? What’s happening?”

“You need to use your gift.”

“I don’t understand. I⸺”

“There are doors everywhere.”

His grip on me loosened.

“WAIT!”

“Use them.”

I fell.

* * *

I looked around.

My head felt muddled. 

My vision was starting to go dark. 

I couldn’t take it anymore. 

I collapsed.

“I’m so sorry Peter,” I hoarsely muttered to myself.

My body convulsed.

I gasped for air.

No.

I refuse to die here.

I clawed myself up off the floor and towards the cabinet under the sink. It didn’t look like it was on fire yet.

I pulled the door open and closed my eyes, using every ounce of strength I had to pull a shadow to envelop the little space. 

I blindly reached into it. 

It was cool on the other side. 

I reached farther than I knew the cabinet went. 

It didn’t end. 

There was a small breeze on the other side. 

I took a leap of faith and pulled myself further through the impossible space.

Flames licked at my feet.

Soft light greeted me.

The fresh air was so jarring, I started coughing again.

The ground was cold and rough. Concrete. 

The snow stung in my cuts. Still, I cradled my arm against my chest. I felt the blood from my hand soak through my shirt.

My lungs spasmed with choked coughs and grunts. 

The last thing I saw was a full moon before my eyes slipped shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you mad?


	27. Pix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> something horrible's happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you weren't mad by the end of the last chapter you'll def be mad at me after this one

I could smell smoke and the stink of burning plastic from a couple blocks away.

There was still a fire truck parked where there used to be an alley between the two warehouses. 

One had a blacked side from the soot but was otherwise okay.

The other was completely leveled. The only things left were a misshapen metal frame and some rebar sticking out of the concrete.

Everything else was gone.

My  _ home _ was gone.

Broken glass amidst the rubble shimmered in the early morning light. 

The debris still crackled with heat and the several small fires that remained.

My face was hot with rage. I fought to keep my breathing level. I tried to blink away my tears.

When I walked up to the wreckage, a fireman rushed to stop me. I pushed past him, yelping when he tried to grab me by my shoulder. He let go instantly.

“Hey, kid. What're ya doin’ here?!”

I stared through him, his question going unregistered. My mind was flipping through a billion different thoughts at once. My stuff. My money. My swords. My . . . tech⸺

“Where’re ya parents, kid?”

No. 

No, no, no, no, no, no. 

“Jeez, kid! Ya bleedin.”

I shook my head furiously.

No.

“Hey. Hey, kid. Look at me. What’s wrong?”

I slowly met his gaze.

His face was so kind. His eyes looked so worried. He seemed no older than thirty. 

“A-a-a safe,” I stuttered. “W-was there a safe? Did you find a safe?”

He searched through the desperation in my still soot caked face.

“. . . yeah. Yeah, we found a safe.” He paused. “‘Was open though. Ev’rythin’ inside burned wit’ the fire.”

My chin quivered and more tears sprung from my eyes.

“I want to see it,” I whispered to the man. 

“Lemme call ya parents first, okay? Ya got their number?”

“They’re dead,” I breathed, staring past the man again to a small fire still burning. 

He flinched.

“Who takes care a’ you?”

“No one.”

“Nobody?”

“Please . . .” I held down a sob. “Please, just show me the safe.”

He led me over to a pile of smoldering, blackened junk which was not unlike all the other piles of smoldering, blackened junk. 

On the ground, a picture frame with a shattered pane of glass held the small burned remnants of a picture. Stacks of money were charred and stuffed animals were scarred with black marks and ash.

And the metal of a hard drive was warped and smoke seeped from within.

“ _ Pix _ ,” I sobbed.

I sunk to my knees before the now worthless box. Everything was spinning. 

_ This isn’t real. I’m dreaming. This is a nightmare. None of this can be real. It’s not  _ allowed _ to be real! _

The spinning got faster. Vomit and anger bubbled in my stomach. Everything felt numb.

“ _ Pix . . . ” _

The fireman all but carried me over to sit down on the ledge of the firetruck while he went and got a first-aid kit.

I was still so exhausted. I leaned my face against the cool metal and closed my eyes. 

I could see Peter walking towards me, golden eyes burning, before he tore at me. 

Breaking me.

I could see Adrian lighting his cigarette and saying I deserve to die alone and afraid.

I could see them all walking away from me. Abandoning me.

I could hear Pix telling me that my plan was stupid.

That was the last thing she said to me.

_ “This is a horrible, shortsighted, terrible, stupid plan!” _

And I’d ignored her. 

I had  _ always _ ignored her.

Now it was too late to listen.

I started at a hand lightly patting my leg. 

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’ mean to scare ya.”

“It’s all right,” I muttered, closing my eyes again.

“Got a name, kid?”

“She called me Raine,” I mumbled, almost incoherently against the metal. “No one else was allowed to call me that. And now . . .”

He raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, um. I’m Milo.”

A brief smile graced my lips. 

“Now,” he said, changing the subject after a moment. “I’m pretty far from being an EMT but I think I can fix you up okay. I should really be taking you to the ER⸺”

“Shouldn’t there be more of you? Firefighters, I mean,” I interrupted.

“ . . . Yeah, the crew went to go get breakfast after the fire calmed down. I drew the short straw an’ stayed t’ finish up.”

I watched Milo as he wrapped up my hand up with a bandage.

When I had woken up a couple of hours earlier in a tight alley about a mile north, I’d managed to relocate my shoulder, though it was still tender, and set my fingers back into place. They didn’t seem to be broken but the joints were misaligned.

I saw Milo glance between the red marks on my wrists from the zip ties, but he never said a word.

When he was done, he dampened a rag and started cleaning off some of the blood and grime that caked my skin.

“Do ya have someplace t’ stay? Any relatives? Friends?”

The thought of Tony made my heart sink. I couldn’t imagine telling him what happened. What I  _ let  _ happen to Peter. 

So, I shook my head.

* * *

I jolted awake. Like I’d woken up from a dream.

I dream that I was falling.

I was on my back. My reflection stared back at me through the ceiling. When I staggered to my feet, my footsteps echoed through the small room. Little streaks of light danced beyond the crystal walls. 

They looked like shooting stars and surrounded me from all six sides of the glass room. 

When I looked down, my bare footprints glowed and faded after several seconds. 

When I realized that there was faint music playing, it stopped. Only when I wasn’t listening for it did it return. 

The great expanse past the glass looked like an infinity.

The shooting stars laughed with each other. Pure laughs. Quieter than the music.

I pressed my hand up against the glass. It was cold. Not to the touch but it sparked a cold in my chest, like I’d taken the first breath of crisp winter air. Little waves rippled out on the glass from where my hand rested. The streaks of light outside sensed my hand and darted toward it in their short, jerky bursts of motion. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” 

I jumped and spun around. Nobody was there. I looked back at where my hand had been just as the darkness chased back the fading glow, revealing a face peering at me through the glass. 

I screamed and fell backward. 

“What happened?! You can’t be here. You’ll get trapped.”

I stared at Adrian.

“You need to leave while you can!”

His voice was muted through the glass. Dark bags had formed under his shallow green eyes that I remembered from so many years ago. His hair wasn’t neatly combed but curly and ruffled, disheveled. 

“CHRISTINE YOU NEED TO LEAVE!” he yelled, pounding his fist against the barrier. I watched the ripples fan out from where he’d struck it. 

“I-I-I don’t know how.”

“WAKE UP! WAKE UP BEFORE YOU CAN’T!”

His shouting got quieter, like he was being pulled away. His face slowly vanished. 

* * *

“Kid?”

I rubbed my eyes sluggishly. “Yeah?” I answered after a minute.

There was a white ceiling above me. I was laying on a couch. Lamps cast soft light on the room. 

I shot upright. 

“Where am I?”

I quickly took stock of my surroundings. 

I was in a living room with two people watching me intently.

Milo quickly took the lead. The other person, a woman, stood toward the back of the room. Her chestnut hair was woven into a long braid and she wore a loose grey sweater. 

“Okay, so,” he started. “I didn’ really know where to take ya because ya fell ‘sleep and I wasn’t just gonna leave ya there soooooo . . . In the meantime, Isobelle’ll take care a’ ya ‘till we figure out what to do.”

I stared at the woman. 

She stared back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))))))


	28. The Cursed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> news

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's a stressed-out dumbass idiot who forgot that yesterday was Tuesday because they're slowly being strangled by tests and essays and friends being lowkey shitty?????
> 
> THIS GUYYYYYYYY

_ “I don’t know what you expect me to do with her?” _

_ “Jus’⸺well . . .  _ I _ dunno either.” _

_ “Look. Milo? I know we’ve been together for a while, but you can’t just⸺” _

_ “IknowIknowIknow, but Izzy . . .” _

_ “Babe. There’s something I haven’t told you.” _

The muffled argument continued in one of the closed bedrooms as I slowly shut the door to the apartment and left. Once in the hallway, I started sprinting towards the stairwell.

Not that I would know where that was.

My footfalls thudded loudly in the carpeted corridor as I turned corner after corner of mustard painted walls and flickering light fixtures. Without even thinking, my shadow glided over the lights and shattered the bulbs with a small crackle of electricity. 

I ran.

Suddenly, something cold I’d stepped on slid out from under me, bringing my foot along with it and sending me toppling over. My hands and knees ground against the rough carpet. I screamed with frustration.

Tears blurred my vision and fell down my face.

I pounded at the floor with my good fist. 

Pix was dead.

Peter is gone.

Tony will kill me.

“Why?!” I breathed. “Why did I even try to escape the fire?! Why couldn’t that gun have been loaded?! Why do I have to watch everything get torn down?!”

I crawled to sit against the wall. My arms were wrapped around my chest and I thumped my head lightly against the wall, again and again.

Thump . . . 

Thump . . . 

Thump . . .

When I finally got my lungs to work with me rather than against me, I looked over at what I had slipped on. It was a newspaper.

The headline on the first page read:

**_CEO OF GENESIS ENTERPRISES FOUND DEAD_ **

With a sigh, I turned it to read the article.

GENESIS ENTERPRISES’ KATE MAYFIELD, DAUGHTER OF THE COMPANY’S FOUNDER, HARRY MAYFIELD, WAS FOUND DEAD IN HER OFFICE LATE LAST NIGHT WITH A DISCHARGED HANDGUN. IT WAS CLEAR THAT SHE HAD MEANT TO TAKE HER LIFE, HAVING WRITTEN A BRIEF SUICIDE NOTE THAT HAS FAMILY AND COWORKERS BAFFLED. HER WIFE HAS DECLINED TO MAKE A STATEMENT AT THIS TIME. GENESIS ENTERPRISES WAS BEST KNOWN FOR GENETIC RESEARCH THAT⸺ CON. ON PAGE 4.

Underneath the article was a large picture of the supposed suicide note strewn about the clutter of a desk. There was a hundred dollar bill that held five sloppy words scrawled across it in a handwriting that I knew belonged to someone else. 

_It wasn’t_ not _a trap._

It was a trap. Just not for me.

_ “God, I hate being right,”  _ I said under my breath as I hung my head.

I didn’t look up when I heard footsteps come down the hall and stop in front of me.

“Go around,” I stated blandly.

Instead, I felt the soft weight of a blanket drape over my shoulders. 

“You’ve changed a lot since I last saw you, Christine.” 

My heart skipped a beat. I knew that voice. 

The cadence. The minute pauses. 

Yet again, tears began to well up in my eyes and my throat grew tight.

The floor creaked as Isobelle knelt down. I looked up at the ceiling and tried to blink away my emotions.

I shook my head.

No.

This couldn’t be. 

I wanted to get up and leave. I wanted to run. 

I wanted to go home.

But soon, I was locked in her gaze. 

After some moments of silence, she said, “C’mon. I have some fresh clothes you can wear. We have a lot to catch up on.”

She turned and walked away.

I didn’t follow, unable to find the strength in my legs to stand up.

No.

“Why do you sound her?” I croaked.

She stopped.

“Sound like who?”

I choked down a sob.

My ghosts always came back to haunt me.

“Pix.”

* * *

“After I heard that Adrian had gone missing and your parents had . . . passed . . . I tried looking for you. I assumed you went into the system. I didn’t really know what I was going to do if I found you, but . . .” she trailed off. “Anyway. I eventually had to move on with the rest of school. It was hard, though. I missed him. I missed him so much. Adrain and I had met because we were paired on a project. And we worked together for all the projects after that. He,” she paused to sip her tea and glance out the window of the apartment. “He was smart. Really smart. One of the last things we were working on was an AI system. Adrian insisted that we record my voice for the audio, saying no one would take the AI seriously if he did it. I’d expected she’d be long gone by now. We never even got to finish her.”

I clenched my jaw and looked down at my fidgeting hands. We were sitting in her living room. I had one of her sweatshirts on and a clean pair of jeans, as well as the blanket over my shoulders. There was an untouched sandwich on the coffee table.

I couldn’t think of eating without feeling nausea churning my gut.

“I remember,” Isobelle continued, “when we’d been hunched over our computers for months, pulling all-nighters to try and figure out the code. I remember when I visited your house on spring break and one day, we fixed a big coding error that had us pulling our hair out for weeks.

“I swear I almost cried. And then, all of a sudden, this little girl with gorgeous orange hair ran into me and thrust a little bouquet into my hands and ran away.”

I didn’t look up at her.

“So I’ve got to wonder . . . what happened to her? And why did she show up in my apartment bloodied and covered in ash?”

I couldn’t answer. The only sound in the room was the ticking of a clock, the occasional soft click of my nails against each other as I dug them into my palms, and my own breathing, which rattled my brain and rang in my ears. 

“She was cursed,” I whispered finally. “She was cursed in so many ways that she lost count. And in the end, she was cursed that even if she wanted to tell you her story, you’d probably have her taken away for she’s surely gone mad . . . And right now, she really appreciates the warm blanket.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> h e l p


	29. Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> choices choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to god I almost forgot to post again . . . BUT I DIDN't! so ya here you go.
> 
> It sucks because I'm bad at stuff. yep. also you wanna know who getting a little in over their head??????????
> 
> ME BICHES I'm fucken tired so guess what that means????????????

It was so cold. Each breath I took condensed into a grey cloud before slowly dissipating into the air. 

Shivers ran up my back. 

I was huddled in the center of the glass room.

All alone.

The little jagged streaks of white light darted nonsensically outside the walls⸺walls that had shrunk since the last time I was here. 

I sat there for hours, until . . .

“Once . . . upon . . . a time . . . ,” cooed a warbled voice that echoed from every side of the room.

I jumped to my feet. 

“Who’s there?!”

“Once . . . upon . . . a time . . . ,” it said again, sounding like it was circling me, “ . . . there was a little girl who was afraid of the dark . . .”

“WHO’S THERE?!” I yelled.

“ . . . And though she grew up, she never grew out of her fear . . .”

“Shut up!”

“ . . . She lived in a city where the lights never went out and she denied that she’d become a coward . . .”

“I’M NOT A COWARD!”

“ . . . but one day, her reckoning came . . .”

There was a moment of silence.

I spun in place, searching for the source of the taunts. My overlapping footprints made a mess of white light on the floor.

I stopped.

“ . . . and that reckoning . . .”

My reflection in the glass stared at me with bright eyes as her lips spread into a wicked smile.

“ . . . is me.”

I took a step back.

So did she.

I shook my head. No.

“Yes,” she nodded slowly before suddenly striking the wall with her fist.

Hairline cracks spiderwebbed through the glass between us, distorting her face and splitting through her eyes. 

She stayed silent but her eyes sparkled with curiosity and poison.

The cracks spread.

She watched me from every unfractured shard. 

* * *

I walked aimlessly around the apartment, pacing back and forth, and fidgeting with my sleeves. I needed something to do.

The sun had barely risen into the ever reddening sky. The snow sparkled as it fell and blanketed the hushed city.

Guilt ate at my brain. 

I still haven’t talked to Tony. 

He must be worried.

He deserves to know.

He’ll kill me. 

Except . . . my phone had burned along with everything else.

I sucked in a fortifying breath, looked back at the note on the kitchen counter I left for Isobelle, put up my sweatshirt hood, and walked out the door.

_ I’m sorry. Act like I was never here. You’ll be glad. _

Everything felt different walking down the streets I’ve walked down hundreds of times before. I had no plan. I had nowhere to go nor anywhere to return to. I had no one to seek out. 

I drifted like the snow until the ding of a bell rang out and I found myself in a general store. 

Wandering the aisles, my thoughts turned against me. 

_ You’re not doing enough to save Peter. _

I was so tired.

_ You need to find him. _

I wished I could sleep.

_ He’s in danger. _

. . . please leave me alone . . . 

I picked up a burner cell phone from a shelf and immediately hated myself more than before. 

Right. No money.

The plastic casing crinkled in my jacket pocket as I walked out of the store, my eyes glued to the ground.

I was becoming what I despised. 

I winced at my own words running through my head.

_ “The day you catch me thieving from little Joe’s fruit mart is the day you have permission to shoot me dead, ‘cause that ain’t me.” _

The phone beeped with every number I punched in as the cold world surrounded me once again.

Tony needs to know what happened.

It started to ring.

My heart beat faster.

And ring.

I can’t do this.

And ring.

I’m going to hang u⸺

“Hello, my sweet little homeless child,” Adrian answered in a sing-song voice. 

I froze.

People pushed past me on the sidewalk. 

“Your new dad can’t come to the phone right now. He’s, well . . . he’s a little tied up at the moment. Can I take a message?”

Anger boiled beneath my skin. I gripped the phone so tightly, it would have crumbled to pieces if I were stronger. I couldn’t speak, all I could do was keep from screaming.

“No? You’ve got  _ nothing _ to say for once? How ‘bout this? I’ve got him in the top floor of Stark Tower. Meet us there and we can make a day of it . . .” He paused for a long time. I’d managed to get into a quiet alley. “Or, you can save your friend on the other side of town. 3rd and 15th. He may or may not be lined up on the edge of a very tall building. Your choice,” he said simply.

Then he hung up. 

I swore and punched the brick wall, screaming in frustration.

I kicked a dumpster and eventually fell to my knees.

I chucked the phone at the wall.

It disappeared into the shadow cast by the building just as something hit me in the back of the head and clattered to the concrete ground.

Rubbing the back of my head and brushing the hair out of my eyes, I slowly looked behind me. The phone’s cracked screen stared at me from near my foot. I ran my thumb lightly over the buttons as I picked it up and walked over to where I’d thrown it and tossed a pebble into the shadow.

It popped out from a shadow on the opposite wall.

I waited a moment and stuck my hand into the shadow.

It waved back to me from behind.

When Peter was trying to rescue me from the subway and then again in the fire, it was based purely on instinct, an almost primal force driving me into the darkness. I never had control. Now, though, it felt different. It felt like it was trying to tell me something.

I looked back at the phone and after several moments of contemplation, began to dial one of the three numbers that I had memorized.

_ It’s the only way, _ I told myself. _ I can’t be in two places at once. If I save Peter, he’ll know and kill Tony. If I save Tony, Peter will die. _

_ “H⸺” _

“Mateo? Put Luciano on. It’s an emergency.”

Silence.

_ “Hello?” _

“Luci, I need a favor. And it needs to be now. I’ll owe you anything you want in return. Just . . . please . . . help me.”

_ “ . . . What do you need?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIATUS TIME, is what it means.
> 
> sorry all I'm just getting overwhelmed with just a lot of stuff and aaaaaaaaaaaa.
> 
> I don't know when I'll be back. couple weeks maybe but no promises? My goal is to come back when I have completely and totally finished writing this damn fucked story. on my side of things, that would be about 3-4 more chapters and maybe an epilogue but with how much shiz I have on my plate now . . . it might be a while.
> 
> sooooooo sooooorrry :((((((


	30. Long Story Short

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you know that I'm a horrible human being????? well I am! I said two weeks and I'm pretty sure its been fucking two months because Im a disaster. Anyway. I still haven't fucking finish writing the thing. I literally haven't written a single chapter. I might even quit because I hate it so gd much. idk
> 
> have fun this one sucks 
> 
> oh you might want to reread the last chapter as a refresher idk or you can live life on the edge and . . . not? did I mention that this is going to be the death of me????

_ “What do you need?” _

“Send half a dozen men to 3rd and 15th. There’s a boy there, on the roof of the tallest building on the block. He’s gonna jump. Save him. He’ll try to resist. He’s strong. Don’t underestimate him. And don’t hurt him.”

Silence rang out from the other side of the line.

“Mondello? Say something! Are y⸺”

_ “Yes, I’m here.” _

“If you are hesitating because you don’t want to help  _ me, _ then grow a pair and go save a child. I will pay you back.”

_ “Yes okay, is that it?” _

“I need a safe house.”

_ “What? Why? What’s going on?” _

“I . . . know about Wolff. I⸺”

_ “Jesus! I can’t help you if he’s involved! Is he after you?!” _

“Luci,” I paused and looked around at the dirty alleyway I stood in. “You have to help me.”

“ _ I can’t! _ ” he objected.

“You will,” I said forcefully, “because I’m gonna kill him for what he’s done.”

He hesitated.

“Please!”

_ “ . . . Okay, my boys’ll get your friend. The safe house is on⸺” _

“No! Don’t say it! I’ll . . . I’ll find it.”

_ “What? How in god’s name will you be able to do that?!” _

“Call this number when you’ve got Peter, okay?” I continued, ignoring him.

_ “Lorraine?” _

“You’ll have to blindfold him. You can’t let him know where the safe house is.”

_ “This sounds an awful lot like a kidnapping.” _

“Just trust me.”

“ _ Lorraine?” _

“Yeah?”

_ “Be careful.” _

I didn’t know how to respond so I hung up and stuffed the phone in my pocket.

I took a shaky breath, faced the shadow, and ran into it.

* * *

My reflection circled the glass walls of the box.

“Don’t you understand?” she continued.

“What?!”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she responded in a sing-song voice. “But you’ve  _ always _ been here.”

“I don’t understand.”

She pursed her lips. “Your little birdy brought you here, don’t you remember.”

“Wren?! What did you do to him?! Where is he?!” I screamed at her.

She ignored me.

“Birdy brought you to a forest and trapped you in a box. Now Birdy’s flown off without you.”

“He wouldn’t do that!”

“But he did.”

“SHUT UP!”

“Don’t worry.” She grinned and cocked her head to the side. “I’m here to set you free.”

She struck the glass.

More cracks spread.

She hit it again.

Charcoal black blood dripped from her knuckles.

And a third time.

She began to laugh.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, my heart lurched into my throat.

I was back in Isobelle’s living room, which was certainly not where I intended on going.

_ Something went wrong. It didn’t work. Why didn’t it work? _

“You leaving?” Isobelle asked, walking casually to the kitchen. 

I looked at her dumbfounded. 

She eyed me.

“Err . . . yeah . . .” I answered finally, glancing back at the dark closet I’d run out of.

She quirked an eyebrow.

“You’ve got snow in your hair.”

“Morning walk⸺I’m, I’ll be right back . . .” my words faded as I walked past her and into the dark bathroom. 

This time I tried to picture the lobby of the Stark Tower in my mind and walked in.

* * *

Glittery dust fell down from the ceiling.

Bigger cracks snaked their way through the glass, shaking the room with thunder.

I covered my ears and put my head between my knees. 

* * *

“Holy⸺What the hell?!” Isobelle blurted, staring at me with wide eyes after I walked out of the coat closet again.

“Fuck! Why won’t it work!” I fumed, turning my back on her and sticking my hand into the shadows.

“What are you? Are-are you one of those  _ inhumans _ or something?! You were just over there . . . and n-now you’re over here.”

I disregarded her. I had bigger things to worry about.

“What do you want?!” I shouted into the closet. “What are you trying to tell me? You can’t stop me from saving my friend! Why did you bring me here?!”

Fear began to bubble in my chest.

This isn’t right.

“Who are you really?” Isobelle said as I turned to face her, stopping mid-step when I caught the glint of a steak knife in her hands. Then, ironically, a little lightbulb lit up in my brain. 

“Hey calm down. It’s me. I’m still Christine. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“What are you?!”

“Fuck if I know. Look, I think I need your help.”

“I’m not helping you until you explain what the hell is going on.”

“Long story short: I have weird shadow powers and apparently I can teleport, which is a relatively new discovery, and Adrian’s still alive and he’s batshit crazy; he also killed my parents and tried to kill me several times and now he’s got my best friends and he’s gonna kill them if I don’t figure out how to save them and apparently the universe wants me to take you with me to save them. There, I explained, now please help me we’re on a bit of a time crunch here.”

She didn’t move. She didn’t react in any way. She was almost frozen in place, comprehending everything I said.

“W-wait. He’s alive?”

“Yes but not for long if he kills my friends.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I took her hand and lowered the knife, gently shifting it from her grasp to mine, “I’m gonna kill him if he hurts my friends.”

She looked into my eyes. She was scared. 

Of me or for me?

“Will you help me save them?” I pleaded in a whisper.

Slowly, she nodded. 

“I’m so sorry for everything,” I mumbled as I hugged her tightly.

“I-Its . . .” she hesitated, “It’s going to be okay.”

Her arms tightened around me.

We parted. 

I led her into the dark, her hand in mine, the knife in my other hand.

And soon enough, we were met with the chill air of an overly air-conditioned office, emerging from a shadowed corner opposite the door.

The windows outlooked the city from the top of Stark Tower.

But when I blinked, I could have sworn there were cracks in the glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kill me now
> 
> I not going to post these on a schedule anymore because I do not whatsoever know what day it is. and they wont be weekly. I just post them when I'm angry with my spineless self so yay. idk
> 
> sorry


	31. Checkered Anarchy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> teleprotation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof this chapter is on crack so its SUPER bad sorry. Also me posting this is a reward to myself for finishing the end of chapter 36 (which had me stumped for M O N T H S), and that's prolly how it'll work from now on. I'll post a chapter when I finish one. Sorry that this isn't scheduled anymore :(

“Uhh, what now? Also,” Isobelle paused and looked around the room. “What that actual fuck? How?”

“Look, I would tell you if A) we had time, and B) if I knew. All I can say,” I whispered, glancing down at the phone in my hand, setting it to vibrate, “is that I don’t control it, the universe does . . . or something . . . Look, I don’t know, okay?”

She looked at me quizzically. 

“Here,” I shoved the phone into her hand. “When this buzzes, it’s either good news, in which I need you to somehow tell me, or horribly bad news, in which I need you to leave without question and forget about everything.”

“What? I’m not going to leave you!”

“You have to.”

“Why?!” 

“Because if it’s bad news, then I have nothing left to lose. If it’s bad news, I’m going to die fighting.”

“So what’s the bad news?”

“That he’s called my bluff and done something unforgivable.”

I gave a reassuring nod to her, gripped the knife tight, and leapt into a shadow. 

* * *

Sobs racked my body. The pounding continued. The manic laughter continued. 

Each shake of the room rattled my bones. It felt like my brain was being split apart. 

I looked up. 

The room was smaller than it was earlier. Perhaps only three arm widths from one side to the other.

The once clear walls were cloudy with cracks that spun out from each impact point.

But suddenly, I noticed a second figure out of the corner of my eye. It ran up to my distorted reflection.

It threw a punch.

She reeled and fell to the ground, limp.

There was a moment of silence.

_ “Lorraine! Can you hear me?!” _ called a muted voice.

“Peter?!”

* * *

I dropped from a large vent into the room, bringing the metal grate and a lot of white dust from the broken ceiling tiles down with me.

_ I really need to figure out how to control where I land _ , I thought to myself.

The room was a large office, seemingly deserted. The windows that lined two of the walls were obscured by blackout curtains. There was a single lamp on, sitting in the corner and a chair in the middle of the room, occupied by a still figure, hands bound together behind the back of the chair.

I resisted the urge to rush over to Tony, to check if he was still breathing, to know if his heart had gone silent.

“What, no welcome party?” I shouted at nowhere in particular. “I’m here to surrender myself, or did you already lose your patience?”

Silence.

“Hello?”

My breath became shaky.

“Come on, if you’re waiting for a dramatic entrance, I’d say you already missed the best opportunity. I know you love a good monologue.”

Nothing. 

I tentatively went to the door.

It was locked.

“Oh no. How ever will I get out of this room?” I yelled melodramatically. “You have caught me! I am utterly and completely trapped.  _ Curses _ !”

Finally, I turned my attention to Tony and walked to him, slumped in the chair. His head lolled in my hands. A bruise brushed his cheek and dried blood trailed from his nose. My trembling fingers found his pulse.

Thump thump . . .

Thump thump . . . 

Thump thump . . .

A little bit of the tension in my chest eased. 

I knelt down to cut through the zip ties around his wrists. 

But something wasn’t right. 

Adrian was toying with me. He wouldn’t just leave Tony here to be rescued. There had to be a catch. 

I scanned the gloomy room. Nothing.

I looked Tony over again. Still unconscious. I checked his pulse again. Still beating.

What was the catch?

Did he already kill Peter?

No, having Spider-man on your end of the battlefield is too much to give up without at least a little fight.

Does he really think he legitimately trapped me?

No. How would I have gotten in?

There had to be something I was missing.

But what could it b⸺

Suddenly, I was rocketed back and slammed into the wall opposite the windows. The explosion rang in my ears as glass rained down on me while I struggled to catch my breath. The only thing I could hear was my own breathing like it was inside my head. I blinked the blurriness from my eyes and shielded my face from the blazing sunlight that streamed through the hole in the room between the fluttering, charred curtains.

A figure blocked out the sun and cast a shadow over me.

An Iron Man suit hovered a few meters from the building with an arm up, palm aimed at me. It cocked its head and the light on the palm glowed brighter with an ear-piercing windup.

My eyes widened and at the last moment, I rolled out of the way.

The beam of light blew a hole in the door. 

I scrambled to Tony, who was now laying on his side.

Still breathing.

I hoisted him up and⸺

Another blast exploded above us, raining down debris.

I dropped to the ground with Tony. My lungs recoiled at the dust in the air. I chanced a look at the suit. 

It looked at me. Then the mechanisms on its arms began to move, revealing half a dozen small missiles. 

“I want to thank you, sister,” Adrian’s mechanical voice said through the suit. “I never would have thought to go after Tony Stark himself. Here I was, just wanting to control the underground of New York. You made me realize that I wasn’t thinking big enough.”

_ Here comes the monologue. _

The armor hovered closer to the ledge of the room.

“You have no idea how  _ fun _ this is going to be, my dear Christine,” he snarled. “I control your little friend. I control an avenger. I will take the rest of them in time. The world’s heroes will fall to the checkered anarchy and I will have command of the board.”

A frigid gust of wind swirled through the room.

“You are only a rook in a game of queens. You. Have. No. Chance.”

I stood up, straightening my back, and squaring my shoulders.

“Well maybe while you were too focused on the indirect manipulations, you didn’t see that you cleared my path.”

He hesitated.

I didn’t.

I sprinted across the room and leapt up onto his shoulders, throwing the machine off balance in mid-air. I used his surprise to whip out the knife and plunge it through the glass eye of the helmet. 

Sparks flew.

He screamed and tried to throw me off. 

He clawed at my clothes as the suit began to descend, the boot thrusters fritzing out. 

He took a moment to wrench the knife out of his eye and that was the moment I needed to get away. 

I jumped.

But the ledge was too far away.

I wasn’t going to make it.

There were 95 stories of air between me and death.

There was only a foot of air between me and safety.

All I could hear was my hyperventilating.

I crashed into the building just below the ledge and slid.

The bricks slipped from my grasp. 

The concrete ground against my palms and forearms.

But suddenly, my fingertips caught a window sill.

I winced and my arm screamed with the shock, but flung my other arm up to grab hold as well.

Craning my neck over my shoulder, I ventured a look down and immediately regretted it.

The suit was struggling to fly away, the thrusters sputtering occasionally.

The harsh wind whistled through the rebar and debris of the smoking gash in the building and blew up my hair. My fingers burned with cold. 

I looked around. The hole was about three stories above me. There didn’t seem to be any open windows and I was definitely not in a position to break one.

Slowly, I pulled myself up. The ledge wasn’t big and I was only able to stand on it with the toes of my shoes.

Soon, I heard a couple of helicopters nearing. I kept my head down and resisted the urge to look at them, assuming at least some of them were news choppers with cameras. Cameras that would want an explanation.

After a few minutes of clinging to the ledge, the roar of the engines was all I could hear. The wind from their blades wasn’t helping much either. 

My arms ached, holding on to the small crevices between the bricks. 

Blood trickled down the side of my leg and a brief glance told me a large shard of glass was embedded in my outer thigh.

“MISS, ARE YOU ALRIGHT? WE ARE GETTING PEOPLE TO YOU. JUST HOLD ON A LITTLE LONGER,” a voice announced through a bullhorn.

Shit. 

On one hand, I could really do with a bit of saving at the moment. On the other hand, they’ll want to know what the fuck happened.

I had no idea what room I’d left Isobelle in . . . if she was even still there. 

Peter could be dead. 

He probably is.

I started shuffling sideways along the ledge. 

“PLEASE STAY STILL. DO NOT TRY TO MOVE.”

_ Oh, fuck off.  _

My hand-holds on the wall left a bloody trail across the side of the building.

_ Jesus, it was cold.  _

Painstakingly, I shimmied my way across the wall. 

Abruptly, there was frantic knocking on the window in front of me before it opened. 

_ “Christine! What the fuck?! I heard a bunch of explosions and now there are a bunch of helicopters and⸺” _

I launched through the window and crashed into her. 

“We need to leave. Now.”

“What?”

“They’ll find us.”

“You’re bleeding!”

“The phone. Anything!?”

“Y-yeah. They’ve got your friend. He’s safe.”

A breath that I’d been holding for far too long, was finally released. 

“Stay here. I need to get Stark.”

“Wait, WHAT⸺”

I ran into the nearest shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey but tell me how yall are doing. I hope that all of you are safe and healthy and maintaining your sanity. <3<3<3<3<3


	32. Puppeteer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoo I kinda actually really like this one. And I've finally started writing the last chapter so O O F! Rereading this chapter made me pretty excited about the story again. It was quite a bit ago that I wrote this chapter. Hope you like it.

_“Lorraine! Can you hear me?!”_

“Peter!?”

_“Lorraine!”_

“What the fuck is going on?” I pressed myself up against the delicate glass. “Do you know what’s happening?” 

“I was kinda hoping you’d know. Last thing I remember was looking for you after you ran away from the warehouse. Mr. Stark wanted to stay and wait for you but I didn’t want to just sit and do nothing. I had to find you. I had to tell you that it wasn’t your fault that I got hurt.”

“Wait . . . you don’t remember my text or getting back to the warehouse or the next morning?”

“No. Just that I was searching all over for you and I turned a corner and pfff, blackness. Then I woke up here.” He paused. “Wait, why? What happened?”

“It was all him,” I muttered. 

“What?”

“He acted like he _cared_.”

“Who? Adrian?”

“He acted like _you!_ And, and . . .” I backed away from the glass. “ _Jesus Christ,_ I fucking fell for it, too.” I ran my hands through my hair and turned in a slow circle. “I can’t believe I⸺”

“Peter?”

He was gone.

* * *

In and out. Why couldn’t it have just been in and out?

The universe decided to spit me out in the middle of a hallway, you know, where _people_ were.

More than half a dozen cops and firemen turned to look at me as I stood frozen in place, sweat dripping down my forehead.

“Hey⸺”

_Nope!_

I quickly shadowed my face and bolted in the opposite direction, immediately slamming into another burly fireman. 

“Woah, are you okay⸺”

_Nope!_

I pushed his hand off my shoulder and lurched past him, continuing down the hall as shouts and thundering footsteps followed.

I nearly tripped over myself sprinting around a corner into an office and slamming the door shut, fumbling with the lock.

There was pounding against the door. I took a slow step back.

It held. 

“Come on Universe. Time to take me to where I _actually need to go_!” I hissed under my breath and jumped into another shadow. 

* * *

All was quiet except for the low, rumbling ache of the glass walls. 

* * *

I scrambled out of a broom closet and tentatively looked around. 

It was another office, empty⸺

Pain exploded in my nose and I stumbled backward. Blood dripped onto my shirt. I looked up just as another punch connected with my jaw and sent me tumbling over a desk. A lamp clattered to the floor and the lightbulb shattered.

“Whaddayaknow.” Tony’s voice rang in my ears. “He can hit pretty hard.” 

He held up his fists like a boxer and bounced on his toes. Golden eyes peered at me accompanied by a manic smile. Disgust betrayed my composure with the realization that this was Adrian. 

I got back up and rushed for him, dodging a swing and popping him in the mouth. He reeled back. 

Tony's survived worse. 

I pushed him against the wall. He ducked my punch and slipped under my arm, my fist going through the drywall. He kicked the back of my leg and my knee buckled. I wrenched my hand from the wall to catch his shoulder and shove him to the ground but got a handful of his blazer. 

He grabbed my hand and twisted my arm counter-clockwise. I yelped and struck his gut, then wrapping my leg around his and pulling it out from under him. He fell and, before he opened his eyes again, I had a hold of his right wrist and my knee just below his neck, on top of his left arm, pinning him down. 

He grinned at me, breathing hard through his teeth, and opened his mouth to say something but stopped short, his attention fixed on the entrance of the office. 

“Christine?” Isobelle said from the doorway. I didn’t look back at her, intent on watching Tony. 

His expression softened and his eyes flickered, eventually settling on their original deep brown.

“ . . . Tony?” I whispered hesitantly.

His gaze flitted up, meeting mine with utter confusion.

“Lorraine? What the fuck?”

My face lit up and I shifted my weight off of him. Before he could fully sit back up, I couldn’t help but tackle him with a hug, holding on to him for dear life. 

He was stiff with surprise but hugged me back after a second. I blinked away tears and swallowed a sob that began to bubble up my throat. 

“Look, touching moment and all but, let’s get out of here. Please?” Isobelle interrupted.

I laughed and finally stood, helping Tony back up as well. 

He looked between me and Isobelle.

“The hell is going on? ‘Christine?’”

“You’ll have more questions soon, don’t worry,” I responded with a nervous laugh before turning to Isobelle. “We gotta go. I don’t know if I can take both of you at once.”

“Go. Take him first.”

I looked between them.”

“I’ll be fine. Go,” she insisted. 

I nodded and looked to Tony. 

“Take my hand and don’t let go. I don’t want to know what happens if you get stuck in two places at once.”

“What do you meeaaAAAAAAAAHHHH⸺”

I grabbed his hand and pulled him into a shadow. I felt his muscles tense in fear of slamming into the wall.

I closed my eyes and a small prayer went through my brain halfway through the shadow, hoping that the universe would get us to the safe house. I opened them again to see a dark room, illuminated only by an uncovered lightbulb in the ceiling. The walls were comprised of grey cinder blocks and the floor was rough concrete. 

Several men jumped up from where they were sitting and instinctually pointed their guns at us. 

Tony looked at me wide-eyed just as Mondello rounded the corner and entered the room. 

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” I quickly told Tony, and before Mondello could say anything, I jumped back through the shadow. 

Isobelle was right where I’d left her. She caught my hand and stepped with me through to the safehouse. 

The men still had their guns trained on Tony. 

“Boys,” Mondello barked, and they lowered their weapons. “Lorraine, mind telling me what the _hell_ is going on?” He glowered at me.

“Seconded,” Tony chimed in.

“First,” I took a much-needed breath and it fully dawned on me how exhausted I was. My bones ached and my joints groaned when I moved. “Where’s Peter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk what to put here so . . . . . . does anyone have any interesting/funny headcanons?


End file.
